Rule of Fate
by EvilSamurai
Summary: It is human nature to fight against the designs of fate. But some fights cannot be won. With a growing power he is only beginning to understand, Harry must learn to accept his destiny if he wants to protect those he loves. Post-OotP AU H/G
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not any portion of the Harry Potter characters or universe, they belong to J. K. Rowling. The plot and any original characters are mine.

With a flash of lightning he appeared, seemingly from nowhere. His boots sank deeply into the muddied earth as curtains of rain parted around him, diverted by a black umbrella that he carried loosely in his hand. By most people's standards he would not even rate as average. He wore a long, tattered gray overcoat, closed tightly against the pelting drops of water, which gave him the appearance of a homeless man fresh from the dumpster. An old scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck, but did nothing to hide the long elegant white beard that ran all the way to the middle of his chest, as pristine as new fallen snow. Its magnificence would have humbled even the most proud and egotistical of beard aficionados.

He took stock of his surroundings, head turning to follow his wandering eyes as they darted from tree to tree, apprehension clear on his weathered face. It was only moments though before impatience clearly won out over caution as he began striding forward at a brisk pace, eyes now focused solely on his destination. After only a few short minutes his steps slowed as he approached the base of a large hill, nestled in a small clearing amidst the trees. Any normal person would have found the view breathtaking, even in the pouring rain, but the man did not slow his pace. Large roots had grown up from the surrounding trees, weaving into the walls of stone and dirt, strengthening them and giving the hill a textured, almost alien appearance. The man approached slowly and reached out with his free hand, placing it lightly upon the rough surface of the hill and running it gently across the snake-like roots and through the soft, wet green moss that covered the ancient stones.

"Oppugno Fatum," he whispered softly. The mound of earth reacted immediately, the roots underneath his fingers slithering away from his touch. A loud crumbling noise filled the clearing as the thousands of pounds of dirt and rock before him began to tremble…and then _move_. Dirt and mud melted away like ice-cream under the hot sun, disappearing into nothing as the stone began to reshape itself. Within moments he was looking, not at a pretty but ordinary piece of English countryside, but at a yawning cave mouth that the dim light of the stormy afternoon did not even begin to illuminate. He allowed a small nostalgic smile to lift the corners of his mouth as he took a single step forward into the cavernous opening, lowering his umbrella as he entered.

Inside he could make out no more detail than he had standing out in the pouring rain; ahead of him loomed a gaping darkness that was swallowing all light thrown at it. He lifted the umbrella in his hand and tapped it twice into the floor beneath him. Immediately a light flared into existence on his right and left, revealing two blazing torches set into brackets on the smooth stone walls on either side. Ahead of him another pair lit into being, and then another, until he could see a line of bright illuminating flame disappearing around a slight bend ahead. Tucking his still dripping umbrella under his arm, he resumed his trek forward.

The wide passage soon terminated in a large circular room. There were no exits, other than the hallway from which he had come, and no windows. There wasn't even much furniture to speak of, merely a small coat rack by the entrance, a large stone basin set into the wall on the far side of the room with a mirror above it, and sitting in the dead center, looking dreadfully out of place in the stone hewn earthy abode, sat a large, rather comfortable looking leather reclining chair.

He sighed happily at the feel of the warm interior, quickly shrugging off his scarf and cumbersome jacket and hanging them from the nearby rack, revealing an immaculate dark grey suit. Moving forward, he eased himself gradually into the soft brown leather, relishing every moment. With a casual wave of his hand a small table appeared next to him sporting a short glass and a rather tall bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a glass, he leaned back and let out a deep sigh; sometimes it was good to be a wizard.

Thunder boomed outside, echoing loudly through the tunnel and into the small cavern. In an instant he was on his feet and the relaxed look was gone, as forgotten as the glass that lay shattered at his feet. Eventually the sound faded, and gave way to complete silence, even his breath muted as he stared intently at the cavern entrance, eyes unblinking. After nearly a minute he breathed a deep sigh of relief before lowering the umbrella that he had, until this moment been pointing unwaveringly at the entranceway.

He let out a small frustrated growl as he looked to his feet at the scattered glass shards and the amber liquid that was still slowly trickling outward, horrified at the wasted alcohol.

"After all these years," he muttered darkly, "I still can't get a moment of peace." He had known from the outset that time would be precious on this road he had chosen to travel, but he had thought surely he could afford a few moments to himself before he began. But he supposed it was for the best in the end; after all he did not know how long it might take to convince the boy.

He returned to his chair but did not relax into it as he had previously, but rather leaned forward, waving the umbrella at the mirror set into the wall before him. It lit up immediately with an inner glow, colors and shapes swirling around the edges of the large square of glass. Hazy shapes floated across the surface, the soft light mingling with the menagerie of colors to form a swirling, ever changing mass that seemed to be without rhyme or reason. Reaching out with his magic, he tapped into the chaos, not controlling it as that would defeat its purpose, but powering it. By focusing his energy and will, he began to see shapes take form, patterns emerging that to his eye were as clear as a television screen. He watched for a few minutes, the pattern weaving for him a tale of love and loss, betrayal and redemption, fear and horror, war and destruction…..of countless lives lost. He released the magic with a gasp and collapsed backwards, his hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose.

There had been no need to tax himself any further; he knew how the story would end. After all he had watched the same thing play out in front of him countless times in recent weeks, and they had all ended exactly the same. Honestly he had not expected the outcome to be any different this time, but he had to try, didn't he? His plan wasn't exactly flawless was it, and even if everything went perfectly, there was still a chance….no, he could not think like that. The time for talking himself out of this was long past, he was committed now. He could only hope that he had made the right choice, both for himself….and for the world.

He stood, umbrella in hand, and took a long look around the room before he turned and exited, walking briskly through the tunnel to reach the forest beyond. He stopped as he reached the open air and took a deep breath, letting the damp evening air fill his lungs as the sound of grating stone behind him let him know that the tunnel behind him had sealed successfully. As he let out the breathe he turned on the spot, almost faster than the eye could follow and silently disappeared.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing

_A/N – I won't normally be posting this often. I am going to try to stick to a schedule of once per week so that I can stay ahead of myself with my writing._

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed at Number 4, Privet Drive, hand clutching his scar while his jaw was locked in pain. His deep, gasping breaths echoed in the dark room, their thunderous noise doing nothing to drown out the wild beating of his heart. He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved his glasses before looking at the time, the pale strips of moonlight streaming from the window giving him just enough light to read the hands of the battered old alarm clock.

It's almost midnight he thought to himself, his chaotic mind slowly beginning to form coherent thoughts as his breathing slowed and he finally began to collect himself. He eased himself back slowly, leaning his head against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chest. Soon it would be official and there would be no avoiding it.

It was a day that he had been dreading for weeks. Ever since he had arrived at this house he had been flooded with the almost constant stream of letters from friends. The contents of these had varied, often being nothing more than a recounting of the day's events or a retelling of the twin's latest prank. But almost all had ended same way. Are you ok Harry? How are you feeling Harry? Do you need to talk about it Harry? And he knew to which 'it' they referred…Sirius's death.

He knew he shouldn't be angry with them for being worried about him, but he just couldn't help it. Everyone seemed to just expect him to suddenly break down and start crying over his parchment while he told them how much he missed his godfather. Why was it so hard to understand that he didn't want to talk about it? What was so wrong about that? Sure he missed Sirius, but talking about it wasn't going to change anything.

He did not want to hear from everyone how it was not his fault and he shouldn't blame himself, because the truth was that he did blame himself. If he had not let himself be fooled then the entire trip to the Department of Mysteries could have been avoided, and Sirius might still be alive. He realized that and had accepted it. But Sirius would not have wanted him to breakdown, or give-up; he would have been the first to tell him that he had to keep fighting. He wished he could find the words to tell all of this to Ron and Hermione, but he just had not been able to bring himself to respond to their letters which had made him so furious. This brought him back to why he was dreading this particular day.

In approximately ten seconds, the clock hands would align over the twelve and it would officially be his birthday. Now, his birthdays had never been much to shout about, but the thought of the sympathy and understanding that would await him in the letters he knew were inevitable on this day was enough to make him ill, and had in fact been keeping him lying awake for the past two nights.

Finally the dreaded hand swung, and the clock struck midnight.

"Happy birthday to me," he whispered into the darkness, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"Happy birthday indeed my friend."

Harry jumped at the unexpected response, his hand reflexively pulling his wand from the pocket of the baggy sweat pants that he slept in while his eyes swept the room for the owner of the smooth mellow voice.

"I won't be so naïve as to ask you to put that away," the voice continued, "but please know that I mean you no harm."

There. He could not make out a clear figure in the deep shadow, but he kept his wand trained on the spot that his ears told him the stranger occupied. Had a Death Eater managed to penetrate the wards?

"Yes well, I have had quite a few people try to kill me in my lifetime, so I hope you'll understand if I don't take your word for that," Harry replied calmly. The stranger chuckled.

"Oh of course my dear boy, in fact I would be highly disappointed if you had simply taken me at my word. One can never be too careful with strangers." Harry was taken aback. He did not expect polite banter from a Death Eater.

"Come out where I can see you," he commanded, trying to inject a note of authority into his voice.

"Certainly," the voice whispered as its owner stepped forward into a band of pale moonlight. Harry felt his jaw slacken in confusion. Despite the polite words, he had still expected to see a hooded and masked Death Eater come flying at him from the shadows. Instead, before him stood a fairly tall older man in an immaculate gray suit and clutching an umbrella, his tidy white beard reminding Harry a bit of Dumbledore. His eyes, however, did not have Dumbledore's characteristic twinkle. Not even a little.

He smiled politely. "Please don't get up my boy; in fact, I believe that I will join you." With a wave of his hand a large leather armchair appeared at the side of the bed and the man quickly took a seat, sighing. "There we are, much better. Now we can just sit here and have a nice chat." Harry was staring slack jawed at the mysterious stranger. Who was this man, and how on earth had he managed to enter this house, much less Harry's own bedroom without activating the wards? They were the reason that he had always been told he had to return to this wretched house, but a fat load of good they seemed to be doing him now.

"Who are you," he asked calmly, trying to sound confident, "and what do you want with me?" The old man smiled warmly.

"That would be the question of the hour, would it not? But I suppose it is a fair question so I will answer it honestly. I am here to help you kill Voldemort." Harry started; he had definitely not been expecting _that_. "I know that you just lost your godfather -my condolences by the way- so I don't know how much time you have really had to absorb what you were told at the end of school, but I am here to tell you that it is absolutely, one-hundred percent true."

Harry's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"The prophecy my boy, the prophecy." It was impossible; the only record had been smashed in front of him. Only a few people in the entire world were supposed to know that it even existed. But this stranger somehow did.

"Who are you," he asked again, his voice quiet and more than a little shaky. The old man scratched the side of his head, looking abashed.

"Ahem, well people have called me many things over the years, but once upon a time my name was Merlin. Harry snorted loudly, and received and arched eyebrow and an annoyed look in response. "And what, pray-tell, is so funny about that?"

"Nothing at all, I didn't mean anything by it," Harry spluttered. "But it's just that, I mean come on, Merlin? He's been dead for what like a thousand years or something like that hasn't he? And you just wander into my bedroom in the middle of the night and announce that your Merlin and I'm supposed to just believe you? I mean, you don't exactly dress like Merlin, do you? The old man was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed now and his head bowed.

"And what exactly am I supposed to look like?" he asked. He continued before Harry could even speak. "Does it not occur to you that in those thousand or so years that you mentioned I might have picked up a thing or two? I know it's a part of the ridiculous iconic image that you present wizards have of me, but let me tell you something young man, Armani is a hell of a lot more comfortable than a codpiece and a loose fitting sheet with holes cut in it." He stood abruptly. "But if it will help you to accept this so that we can move on, so be it."

He tapped the end of his umbrella once on the hard wooden floor and quickly began to change. His well-tailored suit began to transform, its sleek lines melting and shifting to form a long, flowing midnight blue robe. The umbrella began to change as well, the wood of the floor it touched seeming to reach up into it before spreading like a disease. It grew, and changed, and expanded until finally his hand clasped a large polished wooden staff that was nearly as tall as he was. His face had changed as well. It seemed harder now, older, and more taught with worry. But his eyes were what drew Harry. They still did not twinkle as Dumbledore's often did; instead they glowed. Not metaphorically speaking, they really glowed. His irises were now suffused with a bright azure glow, and the power radiating from them was palpable.

Merlin took a moment to adjust his beard before returning his gaze to Harry. "Satisfied?" Harry nodded mutely. "Good, then we can return to our conversation." He settled back into his chair as if nothing had happened, while Harry stared at him, jaw dropped once again. "Now where were we…oh yes," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "we were discussing you killing Voldemort."


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

_A/N- I know that I said once a week, but looks like I'm gonna have to be early for once in my life. My best friends are flying in this week for the 4__th__, so I don't know when or if I will have any time for writing and/or posting this next week or two. If the chapter after this is a little late, please forgive me._

Harry sat stunned into silence as Merlin laid his staff across his lap and reached into a hidden pocket in the folds of his robes. From it he produced a pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. "Smoke?" he asked as he loaded the pipe. Harry shook his head mutely and Merlin shrugged before placing the pipe in his mouth and pointing his index finger at the bowl. With a puff of smoke it was lit and he inhaled deeply, giving Harry a calculating look while he waited for him to speak. It was several long moments before he could.

"What is it that you want from me?" Harry finally said, his voice very quiet.

Merlin chuckled softly, a small cloud of smoke drifting lazily over his head. "My boy I have already told you twice. I want to help you to stop Lord Voldemort." He waved his hand dismissively, "Or if you prefer, Tom Riddle." He snorted loudly, "I always thought that name of his was completely ridiculous anyway. Sounds like something from a children's bedtime story."

Harry couldn't help but grin a little at this, as he quite agreed. Maybe it was being raised in the muggle world or simply because he had fought him so many times, but he had never been able to muster the fear for that name that the rest of his world felt. His wand, which had been starting to droop steadily over the past minute, finally dropped to his side.

There was no way that man was truly Merlin. That was ridiculous, Merlin had been dead for centuries, but Harry definitely didn't think he was any friend to the Death Eaters either. For one thing he hadn't tried to kill him yet. But he needed to find out how he knew so much about Voldemort...and the prophecy.

"Alright then suppose I believe that you really are Merlin. Why does the most famous wizard of all time want to help me? And if you're so interested in seeing him dead, why don't you just do the job yourself. You're welcome to it, trust me." Merlin smiled sadly and pulled an old golden pocket watch from yet another hidden pocket in his robes, checking the time.

"My reasons are…complicated. And as for fighting Mr. Riddle myself, believe me, I would if I could." He sighed, "But I'm not allowed."

"What do you mean not allowed?"

Crack!

The loud sound had Harry diving off the side of his bed, coming to his feet in a tangle of messy sheets with his wand again at the ready.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" he asked, again eying this stranger with suspicion. Merlin remained where he was, casually checking the time on his little golden watch.

"That," he began slowly, "is a team of Death Eaters tearing down one of the wards protecting this house."

"No that's impossible. This place is protected by my mother's blood. Voldemort and his follower's can't get to me as long as I call this place home. Dumbledore told me so himself." Merlin nodded slowly.

"Yes, you're right, the blood magic that was warding this house was far too strong for Voldemort to destroy, at least not quickly. And he would have attracted far too much attention even attempting such a thing. However if the blood magic were to fall, then the only thing protecting this house would a few minor wards put in place by Dumbledore, who trusted so much in the blood protections that he didn't think anything else was necessary. And fall it has."

Another loud crack echoed from outside, and Harry jumped up, edging to the window and peering out to try and see what was happening on the dark lawn below. "And now you are paying for that decision young Harry. That's two down and only one to go. Once they penetrate the final layer of wards, you will only have moments before they come for you. I know you must have many questions Harry, but I am afraid that time is growing short." Harry was breathing heavily now, his mind racing as he tried to absorb what Merlin was saying, and at the same time figure a way out of this. Dumbledore's safe haven had turned into a cage, and he the rat trapped inside.

"How did this happen?" he practically growled, his frustration and anger growing as he realized the depths of how royally screwed he was. "How could the wards have failed? Dumbledore said that as long as I could call this place home-"

"That as long as you called home the place where your mother's blood dwelled, there Voldemort could not touch you." He sat unmoving, seemingly unconcerned that an army of Death Eaters was about to come barreling through the front door. "That's true enough, if a little flowery, but Dumbledore seems to have neglected to mention to you that this spell goes both ways. You may need to be able to call this place home, but your mother's blood has to call it your home too." Harry's heart sank as the meaning of those words hit him.

He gulped, "Do you mean that Aunt Petunia…" He couldn't finish the sentence. Merlin nodded gravely.

"I'm afraid so. If Petunia ever truly considered this place to not be your home any longer, the magic would fail. And I would say that she and your Uncle agreeing to let the Death Eaters have you pretty much constitutes a big 'Fuck You', wouldn't you say?" Harry shook his head.

"No, they wouldn't just..." His words died in his throat even as he spoke them. Yes they would; they wouldn't even need to be bribed or threatened. As long as it got Harry out of their 'normal lives' they would do just about anything.

It wasn't hard for him to imagine Mr. Malfoy apparating unannounced into Uncle Vernon's office, scaring the living daylights out of him. He could almost see the terrified expression on his Uncle's face as he saw the wand the black-clad stranger held on him. And he could also see the expression of terror turning to one of delight and relief as he realized exactly what it was this strange man wanted...Harry.

Harry's eyes were closed now, his fists clenched tightly in anger and frustration. "What can I do," he asked quietly. Merlin, who was still puffing away at his pipe, shrugged.

"Not much I'm afraid. They have you trapped, outnumbered, and outgunned. In a few moments they are going to break through the final layer of wards. When that happens, a team will come in to take you, while the rest stand guard for any wild escape attempt you might make. You'll fight valiantly of course, but eventually you will be overwhelmed. Voldemort himself will stun you and command his lackeys to bring you with them as they retreat. Dumbledore and his order will arrive on the scene a few moments later; too little too late.

Over the next six months you will be their plaything, tortured daily for the entertainment for the dark lord and his guests. The only reason you won't be dead is because the one piece of information that he really wants from you is what you will refuse to give him; the prophecy. Without knowing the contents he doesn't dare try to kill you for fear of losing his body again."

He was staring at Harry intently, and with more than a little respect in his eyes. "I know that you didn't feel like Snape's occlumency lessons were worth a damn, but you must have picked up something because it's a hell of a feat hiding information from someone for any length of time, much less through six months of prolonged torture.

Eventually you'll escape, with the help of the aforementioned professor and go back to your friends…but you'll never again be the boy they remember, you can't be after something like that. You will learn and grow, and train to fight. And one day it will happen; you will face the monster that fate has tied you to and fight him." Harry licked his dry lips.

"Will – will I win?" He sounded unsure if he even wanted to know the answer. Merlin shook his head sadly.

"I don't know. I can't see the outcome, only the events that will lead to it. I can tell you this much – it will be years before you are strong enough to face him…and in those years many, many people are going to die." Harry was silent for several long moments. It was insane, every bit of it, and this crazy old man needed to be locked up in St. Mungo's where he could spend his days with all the other nutter's, wandering around in his bathrobe and screaming vulgar nonsense to everyone he met. But what if he was telling the truth? He wished there was more time to process all of it, but he knew that his time was all but up.

"I don't understand, you still haven't explained what it is that you want from me."

Another sharp crack resounded, louder than the first two, and Harry could feel the air change as the last of the protections around the house were shattered. Merlin stood quickly and tapped his staff again causing the chair to disappear before he joined Harry at the window.

"My dear boy, I am not going to force you to do anything; I am merely here to offer you a choice. You can accept my help and come with me, or you can stay here and follow the path that destiny has laid before you. The choice is yours." He raised his hand, offering it to the young man. Harry hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out his own to meet it. Merlin smiled, "Excellent!"

At that moment the bedroom door burst open and three Death Eater's swept inside, wands at the ready.

"Potter!" snarled the central masked figure, whose voice Harry recognized as Lucius Malfoy. Merlin was smiling as he lifted his staff and waved his fingers at the surprised Death Eaters. "Toodles!" Harry felt a huge pressure around him, squeezing him, and then nothing. All three of the masked figures fired quick stunners where the pair stood but they were already gone. The Death Eaters stared intently at the now empty room, all of them wondering what had just happened. And how they were going to explain this failure to their dark master.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I would build a water park in my backyard.

_A/N – My apologies, I did not mean for it to take so long for me to post. Darn real life getting in the way of fiction… Anywho, as always, questions, comments, or concerns are welcome, so please review._

Harry reappeared as suddenly as he had disappeared, his senses assaulted by his surroundings as his body slowly caught up to the fact that it was not standing in the smallest bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive anymore. He jerked his hand free from the one holding it and fell to his knees before promptly throwing up. After a few moments he had emptied his stomach of the meager dinner that the Dursley's had allowed him and after a few more dry heaves, he turned his head to the obvious sadist who had just brought him here...wherever here was.

"What in the hell was that?" he asked, clearly angry.

Merlin scratched at his beard, "Hmm, well that was what you would call apparition."

"Apparition!" he asked incredulously. "Are you serious? Wizards actually do that every day? It felt like someone squeezed my organs into a ball and then used them as a bludger."

"Well the squeezing sensation is normal yes; it's just something that you get used to. I was in a hurry, so I might have used a bit more power than necessary. Sorry about that."

Harry ignored the apology as he slowly regained his feet, placing his hand on a nearby rock to steady himself. He gave another glance at the rock he was now leaning on and realized that rock probably wasn't the most accurate word; stone sounded far more appropriate. It was huge, far taller than he himself and wider as well. Looking around he could see that there were many such stones, all arrayed in a circular pattern.

"Where _are_ we?" he asked.

"This, my boy, is Stonehenge," Merlin replied, smiling proudly, "An ancient place of great magic. I should know, I built it." He looked around with a boyish grin on his face, his tone nostalgic. "Lords boy, the magic we discovered here, the power! Together my friends and I pushed the boundaries of magic further than anyone before or since. Those were the days…"

"What are we doing here though?"

"It's quite simple my boy," Merlin answered, his attention returning to the present. "This place is a focal point of magical energy. Here, my plan will have the best chance of succeeding."

"What exactly is your plan," Harry pressed him. "So far you've been pretty vague about all of this. You want to help me kill Voldemort, because for some reason you can't-"

"Don't take that tone with me boy!" Harry stepped back involuntarily at the man's shout. "You think that I don't want to? You think that I don't wish that I could tear that bastard limb from limb? I would give anything for that chance. Anything." He was hanging his head now, sorrow etched into his features. Harry was dumbfounded.

"Well why can't you?"

Merlin shook his head sadly. "She won't let me."

"Who?"

"Fate." Harry was mute, unsure of how to respond to that. "Destiny, the universe, whatever the hell you want to call the bitch. She is my jailer."

"Your – your jailer," Harry said, shocked. Merlin shrugged.

"What would you call her? I died an old man Harry, many years ago, happy with the life I had led. I awoke as you see me now, stronger than I could have ever imagined. And somehow, I don't know how so don't ask, I awoke with the knowledge that I was here for a purpose, and what that purpose was. I am a guardian of sorts, returned to this world to be its protector."

"What's so wrong with that," Harry asked softly.

"It's not what you are thinking Harry. I am a protector of the balance. I am to ensure that no outside forces interfere with the natural order of events. In other words," he raised his head, "I am the guardian of fate." Harry shook his head.

"I still don't understand."

"Boy you should understand better than most how cruel the universe can be. Look at yourself. You parents murdered, raised by monsters who sell you out to your enemies, hunted by dark forces for reasons you cannot control. Your life has been filled with hardship, and now you find yourself destined to stop a madman. Did you not feel it when Dumbledore told you Harry? Did you not feel the helplessness, the rage? All of that is because of her, because your destiny was decided long ago by some higher power. Fate is a very cruel mistress Harry. She isn't evil, not by any means. She is uncaring. According to her, the universe relies on balance. There cannot be good without evil, both must exist. By ensuring that nothing interferes with destiny, I am supposedly keeping the balance between good and evil maintained." Harry was mute.

"Don't you see," Merlin shouted desperately, his eyes pleading with Harry to understand. "I have to watch the world go by and follow the path laid before it, even if that path is filled with ruin. For nearly a millennium I have watched as this world has seen one tragedy after another, and all I could do was watch it happen. More power than I could ever have dreamt of when I was truly alive, and I couldn't do a single damn thing to stop it. All I was permitted to do was watch and wait. And do you want to know the truly ironic part of the whole situation? In all of this time, I have not once had to fulfill my role. Not once has anyone or anything managed to fight against fate, and change the course of events. And even if they had," he choked out, tears in his eyes, "I was supposed to stop them. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the way things were meant to be! Bullshit," he spit out, eyes ablaze. Then he was calm again.

"How do you know all this," Harry asked. "About me, Dumbledore, Voldemort, the prophecy, all of it?"

"Because my boy, it is all tied into your destiny, your meeting with Voldemort. For most people destiny is not written, it is all about choice; the choices they make will shape their lives from the moment they are born until the moment they die."

"Then why do I have to fight," Harry asked. "I mean it's not like I want to fight him. If destiny is about choice then why can't I choose to ignore the prophecy and live my own life?"

"Because, I said most people, not everyone. Some people are different. Their lives are marked, often from birth, to be ones of significance. Some events are written, set in stone, unavoidable. This fight to the death with Voldemort is one such event." Harry kicked at the dirt in disappointment. "But the choices you make _do_ matter boy. Just because the destination has already been chosen does not mean that the path has been laid before you. By helping you to escape tonight, I have already altered the course of history. And I intend to do even more."

"Can you see the future then? How else could you know that those Death Eaters were coming? And all those things you said about what would happen after…"

Merlin nodded. "In a way. It is not quite so simple. The future is not a book one can sit down and read. It is in constant motion, echoing with the choices made in every moment. What I do is look forward and sort of…sense the most likely future. In recent weeks I have been seeing the same thing every time I look, and that is how I knew of the danger you faced tonight." He sighed, "And I could not let that come to pass. I saw what would happen if I did nothing, I could see your war, and it was…bad. I suppose that after so long watching good people die senselessly I finally just snapped." After his erratic behavior tonight, Harry certainly wasn't going to argue _that_ point.

"What happened," Harry asked, curious, "in the war I mean?" Merlin shook his head.

"No, I won't tell you that. That future is gone now; it vanished the moment that I took you from that house. From this moment on, the future will be what you make of it." He moved to one of the smaller boulders nearby and hopped up to take a seat, wincing slightly at the feel of the cold stone through his thin robe. Shivering, he tapped his staff into the moist earth and then sighed loudly as clouds of steam rolled off of him in waves that quickly evaporated into the night air. Harry finally blurted out the question that had been burning in his mind since their conversation began.

"How can you help me if you aren't supposed to interfere? For that matter how did you manage to help me earlier, weren't you breaking the rules?"

"Yes," Merlin squealed like a child at Christmas. "For the first time in nearly one-thousand years, I broke the one rule that bound me, and Gods did it feel good. Better than sex! Well maybe not." He frowned and furrowed his brow in confusion, clearly thinking hard. "Actually," he continued as his eyes widened in shock and horror, "I can't remember if it is or not."

Harry blushed and looked at down at his trainers. He was certainly not discussing _that_ with Merlin of all people. The old man waved the stray thought away and returned his attention to Harry.

"To answer your question again, yes I did break the rules. I never said that it wasn't possible to interfere, only that I wasn't permitted." Harry blinked rapidly.

"But if -"

"Because," Merlin interrupted, "I had no idea what would happen. There were no specifics, but along with the knowledge of what the rules were came the knowledge that were I to break them, the consequences would be dire. I've been looking over my shoulder for weeks half expecting to be struck down for even thinking about this." Harry shrugged, not sure why that was such a big deal. Death Eaters and Dark Lords were threatening him with dire consequences all the time. "Don't misunderstand me boy. Fate is not some voice that whispers in my ear or appears to me in dreams, it is a universal force. This was knowledge. I knew, deep down in my soul, that were I to cross this line, that something terrible could happen. No matter how many times I was tempted, and believe me, there were many, I was always held in check by that knowledge."

"And now," Harry asked.

"Now," Merlin answered grinning madly, "I simply don't care anymore; a thousand years will do that to a man. But I've tried to be careful with it. After all I could have walked straight into Voldemort's headquarters and challenged him to a duel, but I didn't. So far I have only directly interfered with anything by helping you escape. A very minor feat, and one which I am hoping will let me avoid any of those dire consequences, whatever they might be."

Harry sunk slowly to the earth, his back sliding against the smooth stone pillar behind him. It was quite a lot to take in. Fate, alternate futures, Merlin himself! He didn't know what to make of it all. He turned his head slightly to eye the strange old man who appeared to be happily staring into the night sky. It all seemed so improbable! How could this man possibly be the Merlin of legend? But somewhere deep inside of him a voice was whispering 'you know it's true'.

And Harry knew, despite his doubts, that he would accept this man's help. There was always a chance that he was just some crazy old man who had happened to save his life. But Harry wouldn't take that chance. Not when the lives of his friends were on the line. The future that Merlin had described to him back in his bedroom was horrifying. So many people dead because of his inability to defeat Voldemort.

He thought of the Weasleys, who had treated him like their own son, and of Hermione, who despite her bossiness was one of the best friends he had ever had. No matter what, he could not let that future come to pass, not if there was anything that he could do to prevent it. He gathered his feet beneath him and stood, walking purposefully towards where Merlin sat. The old man came to his feet, his features blank as he stared into Harry's hard, determined features.

"Alright, I'll do it." Merlin nodded his head solemnly, understanding the gravity of the trust Harry was placing in him. "So what do we do now? I mean you said that you didn't want to directly act anymore to try and avoid problems, so how are you going to help? Personal training or something?"

"Or something," Merlin replied mysteriously, turning his back on Harry and tilting his head to again peer at the night sky. "Have you ever felt tired my boy? All these years, you didn't know about the prophecy, but you knew something big was happening didn't you? You knew that Voldemort wasn't finding you by chance. Ever since you first encounter with him you have carried this burden, deep down inside of you, this little nugget of truth that you have never wanted to face. And it has begun to wear you down, even more so now that you know the truth. And you feel doubt. You don't know if you have the strength to do what needs to be done."

With every word Harry shrank, his determined features melting and his head sinking down to his chest. "Have your shoulders begun to bow in defeat?" Harry remained silent. "I am going to give you the power that you need child. I am going to give you the strength to shoulder this burden; the strength to change the world. What you do with it is up to you." Harry's head turned upward again, eyes filled with hope.

"How?"

"The same way that I got it my boy," Merlin replied sadly. He whipped around, faster than Harry could blink, his robes whirling out behind him. His staff was gripped tightly in his hand as he brought it around, the hard, knob like end striking Harry in his temple. There was a sickening Crack, and Harry was on the ground. Merlin stood motionless above the boy, barely able to look at the growing puddle of blood that was pooling around his head. "You're going to have to die."

He tossed the dripping staff aside. As it left his hand and soared through the night air, it twisted and warped, shrinking in size as it flew. When it landed, it was down to the size of the average wand, no more than a foot in length. Merlin hoped that Harry discovered it when he awoke. He certainly had no more use for it, and it might serve the boy well as he grew into his new strength.

Kneeling down, he placed a hand on the bloody wound. "I'm so sorry my dear boy, I wish there was another way." But he knew even as he said it that it was a lie. He was glad things had to be this way. Now he might finally know peace. He had lied to the boy about one thing; he had not been planning this only a few weeks. It was a long time in coming. He did not feel too guilty; he was after all giving the boy a fighting chance, which was more than he could say for fate.

Closing his eyes he began to concentrate, his body practically humming with energy. Blue lines began to radiate outward from his chest to his extremities, like bright azure lightning bolts arcing out. More spread, until there were several lines on each arm and leg, as well as up across his face and into his hairline. His eyes, those glowing azure orbs that had so shocked Harry earlier, now glowed like torches, illuminating Harry's bloody face. He closed his eyes, concentrating harder, and even then there was a glow behind his eyelids. A small smile overtook his face. "Good luck…Harry," he whispered softly. And then he was gone, drifting away into sweet oblivion.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

_A/N – I am sorry this is so late. I always seem to be apologizing for that don't I? For that reason, I have decided to openly state that anyone reading this should not expect a new chapter but once every other week or so. I really wanted to stick with a weekly update, but it appears that just isn't going to work with my life at the moment. Sorry if that upsets anyone, but that's just the way it is. And with Starcraft 2 coming out this week, my time will be even more scarce than ever._

Harry awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright. He automatically reached towards his bedside table for his glasses, glancing as he did so at the time displayed on the glowing red digital readout. It read six am. He halted his search and blinked before looking again. It was 6 am…and he could _see_ that.

Reaching up a hand tentatively he probed his face, wondering if he had fallen asleep with his glasses on again; nope. This was bizarre. At that point he began to notice other things. For instance, he was not in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive. In fact he wasn't sure where he was.

Looking around, he noticed four blank white walls, a television mounted on a stand up high, and a closed wooden door. Beside and behind him he did notice several odd looking machines. Judging from his surroundings, and the small bed and itchy sheets, he guessed he was in a muggle hospital. At least it looked a lot like the rooms he had seen on all of the daytime programs his Aunt had liked to watch; the ones where everyone seemed to fall into a coma and get amnesia at least once a month.

But how would he have gotten to a hospital? Surely the Dursleys wouldn't have taken him; He doubted they would take him into the hospital if he was lying on the floor bleeding in front of them. They'd just have Dudley take him outside so he didn't bleed on the rug.

Before he could ponder his situation further, the door opened and a head with a mop of dark unruly hair peered inside.

"Aha," the stranger said with a grin and a thick Irish brogue, "the dead awakens." He closed the door behind him as he entered and walked swiftly to Harry's side. "It's good to see you up boy; you really gave us a scare."

Harry shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. "Where am I?"

"You're in Salisbury District Hospital."

"How did I get here?"

"Officers picked you up at Stonehenge. You were unconscious and non-responsive, so they brought you to us. Any idea as to how you got there mate?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue. The last thing I remember was falling asleep in my room."

"Where would that be?"

"Surrey."

The man whistled. "That's quite a long ways. Not really my business though. But you might want to expect an officer round here later to ask you these questions again. When they found you, you were bare-arsed and surrounded by scorched earth. Things like that tend to make them curious." He shook his head. "Ah, but where are me manners? The name's Michael."

He reached out his hand and Harry shook it tentatively. "Harry."

Michael raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a nearby plastic chair and sat down. "Got a last name Harry?"

Harry hesitated before answering. It might not be a good idea to give away his real name, at least not until he could find some way to contact Dumbledore.

"Evans. Harry Evans."

"Well it's good to meet you Harry Evans. We'll see what we can do about finding your parents."

"Don't bother, they're dead."

Michael gave him a pitying look. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"So are you a doctor," Harry asked quickly, desperate to change the subject. Michael gave a short laugh.

"Please, do you really think a doctor would be in here this early? That might throw them off their golf game at noon. Nah, I'm a nurse, I work for a living." They sat in silence for a few moments and Harry stared out the nearby window as the first rays of dawn spilled over the horizon."Look Harry," Michael began quietly, "what happened to you? If you tell me maybe I can help. You've got to give us something here, cause right now the police think you set fire to a national landmark. Around here it's kind of a big deal."

Harry was shaking his head before Michael even finished. "I'm telling you the truth, I have no idea how I got here; I don't remember anything after falling asleep that night. But I know I wouldn't have started any fires." A thought occurred to him. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Sure, it's the second." Harry tried not to show any emotion. _Two Days! I've been gone from the Dursley's for two whole days. I'll bet Ron and Hermione are going spare wondering where I am, not to mention Dumbledore. _"Thanks."

Michael nodded. "For what it's worth, I believe you Harry. I'm sure soon enough everyone else will too." He stood and walked towards the door. "I'll bring up some breakfast for you. Don't worry Harry, everything is going to be just fine."

After he was gone, Harry leaned back into the pillows and sighed. They thought he was trying to set fire to Stonehenge? He could be in some serious trouble. If ever there were a time to break the restriction on underage sorcery, it was now. A frightening thought then occurred to him. He looked around frantically for his clothes, glasses, anything that was actually his. Where was his wand?

_Shit!_

Harry stretched slowly as he stood up out of the back seat of the police car, working the bed sores out of his muscles. After he had realized his wand was gone, he wasted several minutes panicking before he calmed down enough to think clearly. He did not see any of his clothes and Michael has said he was found starkers. So since his wand had been in the pocket of his sweatpants when he had fallen asleep, he concluded that his wand must still be at Stonehenge.

Soon Michael had returned with breakfast, and Harry had immediately launched his campaign to return to that very place. Michael was adamant that Harry was in no condition to go anywhere; he had just regained consciousness and needed to be monitored. But Harry was relentless throughout the day, asking every time the nurse entered the room, and even hounding the doctors when they finally made an appearance.

He had made the same request to the police officer who arrived to question him around lunchtime. It had been a quick interview, as Harry really didn't know anything about how he had arrived where he had, but he assured the officer that if he could return to the place where he was found, it might just jog his memory and he would be able to tell them what happened. The officer did not look impressed.

That was why he had been very surprised this morning when the same officer had returned, informing Harry that he would be escorting him to the site. Harry hadn't questioned his good fortune, mumbling a quick "thank you," before he hurried into the bathroom to dress in the sweatpants and tee-shirt that the officer had provided. Within minutes he was in the back of the officer's car and they were on their way.

And now here he was, staring at the pillars arrayed before him as he followed the officer into the center of the massive stones. He was rather surprised not to see any tourists in the area at all, but then he saw the police tape and realized the reason why. Soon they stopped and Harry stared incredulously at the large section of blackened earth. It really did look like someone had set a fire!

"This is where we found you," the officer said, his tone neutral, "after we heard a report from a tour group that there was a naked teenage boy passed out in the monument." Harry was shocked. _Who could have done this? It couldn't have been…me?_

He composed himself, trying to focus on the reason he had come here. _My wand, I have to find my wand._ "I'll just take a look around then," he said casually, "see if anything comes to mind." He began to walk in a slow, wandering path across the blackened ground, his eyes darting back and forth desperately.

The officer watched him with narrowed eyes. He knew this punk kid would hang himself. When the boy had first asked to return to the crime scene, he hadn't believed his luck. So far they had been unable to find any physical evidence to link this boy to the fire, and without it their case was very weak indeed.

And then the boy had asked to see the site. Jog his memory indeed; it was obvious that the boy wanted to return so that he could retrieve whatever it was he had used to start the fire before it was found. _Obviously he thinks I'm a fool. Well we'll just see who the fool is kid. A lighter, a cigarette, anything, and then you're mine._ He drifted off, day dreaming happily about how he would spend the extra money he would be seeing in his paycheck after his promotion.

_Where is it? _Harry was searching frantically now; he had already looked all around the center of the blackened area, where he was supposed to have been found. But there was no sign of his wand. Now he was walking around the outside of the burnt area, hoping that maybe it might have fallen from his pocket and rolled out of the flames. _There!_ He hurried over to one of the large pillars nearby and dropped to one knee, a grin plastered on his face. The smile slowly faded as he examined the wand; it wasn't his! Then whose was it? He reached out a hand to pick up the unfamiliar wand.

The moment his hand touched the wood, a jolt ran up his arm and bright blue sparks began to shoot from the tip. He was too shocked to even move. _This is the same thing that happened back in Ollivander's shop when I first bought my wand! But this one isn't mine, is it?_ But he had no more time to think about it as the bright flashes had snapped the officer from his fantasy land and he was hurrying over, struggling to pull his gun from its holster.

"Hey," he shouted loudly, "whatever it is you're doing kid, stop it right now! You're under arrest!"

Harry turned and ran, looking back over his shoulder to see the officer chasing him as fast as he could. _Damn it, what am I going to do? I don't know how to apparate, or how to create a portkey, and I don't think this guy is going to give up._ He nearly stumbled as a loud pop rang out behind him. The officer, desperate now, had begun to fire wildly into the air as he ran.

"Stop! I am ordering you to stop!"

If he was caught, they would take his wand, and then he would be really stuck. Without it he would have no way of escaping, or contacting Dumbledore or his friends. He had to keep running. Putting his head down, he pushed himself harder and widened his lead. Behind him he heard the officer shouting into his radio for backup, and he knew that soon there would be nowhere left to run.

Quickly making a decision, he stopped running towards the road and dived to the side in between two of the pillars. He quickly started weaving between the stones, and his pursuer soon lost sight of him. As soon as he heard the flustered officer pause, Harry slid to a stop and knelt behind the nearest rock. Peering his head around the corner, he could just make out the officer, sweating profusely and swearing up a storm, his head swiveling frantically as he tried to catch sight of the fleeing Harry.

Harry gasped, gulping in huge mouthfuls of air. _This isn't working. If only I knew how to apperate, I could be sitting down at the Burrow right now. _The policeman was getting close now; he could hear him just beyond the rock he crouched behind, shouting into his radio as he tried to coordinate the other officers arriving on the scene. Within seconds he would be discovered.

Harry slumped over, beaten. He supposed he could stun this one, but what about the other dozen men he heard driving up the road, sirens wailing. Performing magic on one muggle could get him kicked out of school, jinxing a dozen could earn him a sentence in Azkaban, especially considering the Ministry's attitude towards him over the past year. Not to mention if he fired on them they were likely to fire right back, and he wasn't keen to find out if his Protego spell could stop a bullet.

He leaned his head back against the cool stone, closing his eyes and drawing in one long, deep breath. This whole thing felt like one giant nightmare. Even his boring summer at the Dursleys wasn't looking so bad right now. He wondered what Ron was doing. Likely he had just woken up and dragged himself reluctantly down to the table for his usual huge portion of his mother's cooking. His head would be so buried in his food that he wouldn't even notice as the twins made jokes at his expense and Ginny laughed uproariously.

Harry's brow furrowed and his jaw tightened as he concentrated hard on the image of his best mate. He could almost smell the scents of the Burrow. The slightly musty scent that was always present in the old house, the wild flowers that grew just outside the kitchen window in the garden, and the most delicious smell in the whole world…Mrs. Weasley's cooking. The place even felt different from anywhere he had ever been, including Hogwarts. It just had this quality to it; it was something in the air, and just being there he would know the love the Weasleys had for one another.

_I'd give anything to be there right now._ As he had this thought, he felt a swelling in his chest, like he had taken a huge gulp of air, and then felt a vaguely familiar squeezing sensation enveloped him as he disappeared into nothingness.

Moments later the police officer rounded the corner, gun waving from side to side as he scanned the area. He lowered his weapon, reaching a hand up to scratch his head in confusion. He would have sworn this was where the kid was hiding, he had checked everywhere else. _Oh my god, did I lose the suspect? I didn't even have clearance to bring him out here; I just wanted to be the one to find the evidence! I am so screwed._ Looking over he saw his lieutenant stalking towards him, his expression thunderous. Oh yeah, he was screwed.

He opened his eyes and saw the Burrow standing before him. And then he rolled forward and promptly threw up. A few moments later, coughing and spluttering, he rose unsteadily to his feet, feeling utterly exhausted. _Whatever that was, I don't want to do it again_. He looked around, blinking in the bright sunlight. He must be hallucinating, because there was absolutely no way he was at the Burrow. And yet here he was.

He recognized the small garden off the side of the house, and there was the rickety broom shed that held the family's old Cleansweeps, and there- his brain froze in its tracks. His nose twitched. The smell cemented it for him. There was no way that he could ever mistake the smell of Mrs. Weasley's sheppard's pie. It appeared that he had arrived just in time for lunch. His stomach gurgled, the nausea apparently already forgotten.

He staggered forward, shuffling as quickly as his tired feet would allow towards the epicenter of those wonderful smells. Hallucination or not, the food smelled real enough, and right now that was good enough for him.

If Ron had been awake enough to see the murderous look on his mother's face, he would have gone running for the hills. Instead, he shuffled lazily into the Burrow's kitchen, completely missing the barely concealed snickers coming from the twin's and Ginny as he poured himself into the chair next to Hermione, who was trying hard not to smile. The smells wafting up from the hot food seemed to perk him up though, and he reached out a hand to begin filling his plate.

Smack!

"Ow!" he shouted, clutching his stinging hand. "What the bloody-"

"You won't finish that sentence if you know what's good for you Ronald Weasley!" bellowed the Weasley matriarch. "I won't have that kind of language in this house!" She stood with serving spoon in hand, the other planted firmly on her hip. It was clearly the spoon she had struck him with. "Now just what do you think you are doing?"

Ron had to think about that one for a moment. "Eating?"

"Oh no you aren't," bellowed, "this is the third time this week that you have slept in until past noon and been late for lunch and I won't have it. Do you hear me young man? If you can't wake up at a civilized time then you don't get to share meals with civilized people. So you can just sit there and wait until everyone else is finished before eating."

Ron gaped in horror. "But it'll be cold!"

His mother stared at him stonily. "Well then maybe this will be a lesson to you. Wake up or go hungry." And with that, she turned back to the oven, waving her wand and causing a sheet of freshly baked rolls to float through the air before each one tossed itself from the tray like a skydiver, landing in a basket on the table. Ron sat mute, obviously in shock.

The twins however, looked at each other thoughtfully.

"My dear Fred," George asked, "do mine ears deceive me, or did our mother just imply that we were civilized?"

Fred stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Indeed, I believe that she did George. I must say that I am happy that she has finally taken notice. After all we are paragons of civility…"

"…manners," injected George.

"…chivalry"

"…nobility"

"And," Fred concluded, "not to mention we're just plain gorgeous. But all of that aside, it is nice to be the recipient of one of mum's backhanded compliments like this for once."

"Oh stop it you two," Mrs. Weasley scolded lightly as she sat at the end of the table, a bowl of fresh greens in hand. Then she turned her attention back to Ron. "Honestly dear, you should be ashamed of yourself. Sleeping in like this. Harry could be in the hands of You-Know-Who right now; this is hardly the time to be lying about."

Ron's eyes bulged a little at this. "Lying about! I'd be out there with the Order right now looking for him if I could, but you won't let any of us help. You're the one who keeps telling us that it's too dangerous and that we should leave everything to Dumbledore. I just don't see what good it does Harry for me to wake up at the crack of dawn to help scrub something. Not like he's going to pop out of the window grime."

"That is quite enough of that young man. Dumbledore has everything well in hand and you will do your part by staying here and helping me keep the house in order. Now, after lunch, you'll be heading out into the garden." Ron groaned softly and clutched his growling stomach, afraid to argue lest food be delayed even more.

"Good then," Mrs. Weasley said, sipping at her tea. "Now Ginny, don't forget the -" She stopped suddenly and her eyes went wide. The whole table jumped as her tea cup fell from her trembling fingers and shattered on the wooden floor.

"Mum what's wrong," Ginny asked, turning her head to follow her mother's gaze. She gasped and Ron and the twins turned to see what the cause of the commotion was. It was Harry, leaning against the doorframe and looking fairly awkward as the room gaped at him. He smiled shyly.

"Hello everyone," he finally said, "it's good to see you."


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

_A/N- This one is fairly long, please enjoy. And as always, reviews are very much appreciated. _

_P.S. - There was a very helpful reviewer who pointed out a few minor mistakes to me, as well as one fairly large error on my part(I did not think through the relationship between Tonks and Bellatrix; Bella would be her aunt, not her cousin, that was entirely my mistake. I am awful with genealogy, and did not think it through carefully enough... but this has been fixed, with my apologies. Because the subject was raised, this story is being beta-ed (by my wife actually), it's just that neither of us is much of a "grammar police" kind of person, she's with me mostly to help me try to stay on track with the story and help me to bounce ideas off of. All that said, thanks very much to _David305 _for his review, the helpful suggestions were most appreciated. I will say about the use of "alright" though, that it will continue, and I'll tell you the same thing I did my 12th grade English teacher...if I can say it, I can write it, and the rules of grammar can bite me. _

The whole room was silent as death as they stared in shock at the scruffy haired teen standing before them. Harry fidgeted under their gaze, embarrassed at the attention.

Mrs. Weasley was the first one to regain her composure, quickly standing and hurrying around the table to reach him. "Oh Harry!" she cried as she encircled him in a tight hug. "Thank goodness you're alright!" The others quickly stood as well, rushing up behind their mother with exclamations of surprise and joy. Mrs. Weasley kept right on squeezing.

After a few more moments of this, Ron spoke up. "Er…Mum? You might wanna ease up a bit. I think you're crushing him."

Mrs. Weasley immediately eased her grip, pulling back slightly and examining him head to toe for any sign of an injury. When she could find none, she smiled brightly.

"Oh Harry dear, it's so good to see you. My goodness look at you, you're all bones! Come and sit down, have something to eat." She quickly shooed the others out of the way and walked Harry over to the nearest chair, pushing him into it and pushing the nearest plate towards him. "Go ahead dear, have at it."

His eyes widening at the delicious array of food before him, Harry quickly reached out and began filling his plate. Mrs. Weasley looked on in satisfaction and the others, who had followed the two back to the table, began reclaiming their seats.

"So mate, what happened to you?" Ron asked.

"There will be none of that," Mrs. Weasley shouted, "from any of you. This boy needs to eat and regain his strength, not be pestered by you lot." Her scowl turned to a smile as she regarded Harry again, who had a full plate and was busily munching away. "Eat your fill Harry dear, I'm just going to pop into the fireplace and tell Dumbledore that you're here."

Turning her back on the group, she hurried across the room to the burning fireplace, reaching into the nearby pot for a pinch of floo powder before tossing it onto the crackling flames. "He's going to be so relieved to hear that you're alright Harry, I don't think Albus has slept a wink since you disappeared." Then she leaned forward, thrusting her head into the bright green flames and shouting "Hogwarts Headmaster!"

As soon as she was engulfed in the flames, the others leaned in towards Harry, Ron laying a hand on his shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

"It's good to see you mate," he said seriously. "We thought we'd lost you for sure this time." Harry, who had not stopped inhaling his food since he had sat down, slowed long enough to throw Ron a grateful smile.

"Thanks Ron, it's great to be back here again." Ron smiled back and, checking to see that his mother was still occupied, reached out and grabbed a fresh roll from the basket on the table.

"So Harry," the twins said, leaning in conspiratorially, "what happened?"

"Yeah," Ron chimed in, working on a mouthful of bread, "all mum and dad would say is that there was a Death Eater attack on your Aunt and Uncle's, and that you were missing. Everyone from the Order thought you had been captured. How did you manage to escape?"

Harry coughed loudly, nearly choking on the enormous bite he had just taken. He looked at each of them, wide eyed.

"A Death Eater attack? On Little Whinging?" Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins blinked at each other in surprise.

"Yeah mate," Ron answered slowly, "don't you remember?" Harry shook his head grimly.

"What happened?"

Ron shrugged, "Dunno mate, why do you think we asked you? As far as we know, all the members of the Order have been out looking for signs of you, and you know Mum sure as hell isn't going to tell us anything. Anytime one of us asks, she just tells us to let Dumbledore handle it and then gives us more chores to do." He scratched at the barely there stubble on his cheek. "Been a bit annoying really."

Harry began to eat again, though much more slowly this time as he considered this new information. _Death Eaters on Privet Drive? What happened to the wards? And how in the bloody hell did I end up a hundred miles away at Stonehenge?_

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short as his mother withdrew from the fireplace, smiling triumphantly.

"Well that's handled then. Dumbledore was delighted to hear that you're safe Harry, he'll be along any moment-Ronald Weasley! Put that food down this instant!" Ron froze in fear and dropped the half eaten roll. She glared at him, "just because Harry is back does not mean you've wriggled your way out of your punishment."

"But Mum -"

"But nothing young man. Maybe this will teach you some responsibili – oh hello Albus." Harry turned halfway around in his seat and found himself staring into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

Remus Lupin sat immobile, his head in his hands at the dingy kitchen table at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. His eyes stared blankly at the dark stained wood, the same position that he had occupied for nearly four days. Nymphadora Tonks sat next to him, in the same seat that she had occupied off and on for nearly the same amount of time, her uneaten sandwich forgotten in front of her. One hand was rubbing his back in comforting circles as she tried for what seemed like the hundredth time to bring him out of his stupor.

"Come on Remus, you have to snap out of this, we need you." No response. "Look, I'm sure he's fine. We have the whole Order searching for him; it's just a matter of time." Again, no response, and Tonks growled to herself, frustrated at her lack of progress. He had been sitting at the table like this ever since he had returned from Privet Drive.

Since Sirius' passing Remus had taken up residence at Headquarters, and so was one of the few that Dumbledore had been able to immediately contact upon realizing that the wards around Privet Drive had fallen. He, along with Dumbledore, Tonks and Kingsely Shacklebolt, who had both happened to be in the Auror office at the ministry, had all travelled to Privet Drive to help Harry. It had been apparent from the moment they arrived that they were too late.

The house that had stood at Number 4 Privet Drive was still standing, but only just. The once pristine whitewashed walls had been nearly demolished, with almost more holes than wood. Luckily the roof had been ripped off as well; otherwise the walls would probably have collapsed under the strain. The four of them had rushed forward, wands at the ready, each of them dreading what they would find inside. Tonks had gingerly opened the cracked front door, allowing the others to slip in, led by Dumbledore.

The interior of the house had been worse than the exterior, if that were even possible, and Dumbledore quickly waved his wand, casting a quick charm that would at least prevent the house from collapsing around them. They had quickly searched the small house, finding it completely deserted before regrouping in the sitting room.

"I do not know how they pierced my defenses," Dumbledore had intoned gravely, his tall frame seeming to sag as he spoke, "but it appears that Voldemort has managed to capture young Harry."

It was right about then that Remus had started to lose it, slumping against a broken wall as if he no longer possessed the strength to stand. Dumbledore had quickly dismissed them, asking Kingsley to summon other members of the order for an emergency meeting. Tonks he had advised to take Remus back to Headquarters to await the others. He would investigate the scene before returning himself. Obediently, Tonks had taken the distraught Remus and apperated them both to the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, though every Auror instinct in her body screamed at her not to leave Dumbledore without backup.

Landing on the doorstep with Remus in tow had been difficult, and half dragging, half carrying him into the kitchen had been even more so. He had immediately slumped over, head in his hands just as he was now, and did not move for hours, despite her attempts to engage him in conversation. The arrival of the other Order members one by one did not even make him glance up. Not even Dumbledore's return could rouse him. The older wizard did not question him, merely laying a hand upon the werewolf's shoulder and whispering, "Take your time my friend." He had then nodded at Tonks, indicating that they should join the others, and the two of them had left Remus Lupin alone with his thoughts.

And so he had sat since that night, only occasionally moving to use the facilities, and not once speaking to anyone, or even looking up from the floor. Tonks had felt a deep sadness at seeing the werewolf so, and had spent the little free time she had had, between her shifts at the Ministry and meeting with the Order about the search for Harry, at the table with him. She had discovered that while he would barely touch any food he was brought, he would usually sip at the tea she brought him.

And so it was she found herself again, sipping tea while sitting next to an unresponsive werewolf… and she was now officially annoyed.

"Come on Remus, this isn't helping anyone. What good will it do Harry for you to be sitting around like this?"

The werewolf's head shifted at this, rising up from the depths of his hands to match gazes with the surprised metamorphmagus. His red-rimmed eyes stared blankly into hers.

"I've been letting Harry down his entire life. Why should now be any different?" Tonks' eyes wide in shock.

"What are you talking about Remus; how have you let Harry down?"

"I've been letting him down since the day his parents died. When I heard what had happened, and Dumbledore told me that it was Sirius who had betrayed Lily and James, I believed him. After all, I thought that I knew who the Secret Keeper had been; there was no need to listen to Sirius' side of things." Remus shook his head sadly. "Sirius spent twelve long years in that hell-hole. And that meant that Harry spent those years in a hell of his own. I don't know everything about what those muggles did to him; Sirius only told me a little, but it was enough to know that no child should ever have been forced to grow up as he did. Much less the son of one of my closest friends."

He bowed his head. "He saved Sirius from his torment, which is much more than I ever did. He gave me my best friend back. And I repaid him by letting Sirius die." He held up a hand to kill the argument already spilling from her lips. "Don't tell me that it wasn't my fault. Logically I know that, but I still feel responsible. I was trying to work out a way to talk to Harry and apologize for not being there for him, but now…" He shook his head. "Now he's gone, maybe even dead by now; just one more friend that I've let down."

Tonks was shaking her head angrily. She reached out, grasping Remus by the shoulders and turned him in his chair to face her. Her hands slowly drifted from his shoulder up to cup his rough, unshaven face. "You listen to me Remus Lupin. You didn't let Sirius down. Sirius died because my aunt is a bloody psychopath. She's the one who's responsible, no one else. And I don't want to hear another damn word to the contrary." Remus looked like he wanted to argue, but Tonks' eyes blazed and her hair turned a bright, vibrant red. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"And you haven't let Harry down either. None of us knew what was going to happen, not even Albus expected the boy's protection to fail. There was nothing you could have done to stop them from taking Harry. But you will fail him if you keep sitting here like you have been. You can't give up hope, Remus."

Tonks sat back in her own chair, leaving the werewolf to his thoughts. An uneasy silence fell between the two as he considered her words. Finally he nodded.

"You're right of course Nymphadora. I've spent far too long wallowing in self-pity. I have to help; I can't give up on Harry. He certainly wouldn't give up on me." Tonks' smile was wide as she clapped him on the shoulder.

"That's the spirit Remus." Her smile darkened to a scowl. "And don't call me Nymphadora."

"Sorry Tonks," he chuckled, reaching for her sandwich. He needed to get his strength back quickly so he could join the effort to locate Harry. Tonks smacked him gently, laughing as he took his first bite of her lunch. They were both still laughing when a bright light entered the dim kitchen.

Dumbledore's bright, glowing phoenix patronus soared through the nearby wall, coming to rest on the table before them.

"Tonks," it intoned softly in Dumbledores voice, "Gather the Order. Emergency meeting this evening. Harry has been found. Travelling to the Burrow to meet with him now."

Remus and Tonks gaped in shock at the spot where the phoenix stood, even as it faded away into nothingness. There was a brief pause as they both glanced at one another before Tonks leapt to her feet.

"See what did I tell you Remus? I knew he'd be fine! I'd better hop to and start alerting the others!" She ran from the room, her lunch forgotten. Moments later there was a massive crash, and the bigoted screaming of the late Mrs. Black filled the house. Remus chuckled as he took another large bite, his previous melancholy replaced by a hard determination. He wasn't going to let his own grief get in his way anymore. He owed Harry and Sirius at least that much.

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore said as he took the nearest empty chair at the table, "I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you that you are alright." Mrs. Weasley quickly bustled over, teapot in hand to pour the headmaster a cup.

"Please Albus, have some lunch, we have more than enough." Ron did not look as if he agreed with that assessment, still eying the food hungrily. At this rate there wouldn't be anything left for him. But Dumbledore waved her away, still smiling.

"Oh thank you Molly, but no. I had just finished lunch in my office when you called, I couldn't possibly eat another bite." His smile turned back on Harry and Mrs. Weasley nodded, understanding that he needed to speak to Harry and that there was no more time for small talk.

"Children! Upstairs now!" A chorus of shouts answered her; clearly none of them liked that idea.

"Come on mum, Harry's our best friend," Ron groaned, "Hermione and I should be here."

"And we're of age!" the twins insisted. "You can't stop us from being a part of this!"

"Just watch me! You may be living on your own, but as long as you are coming into my house and eating my food every day, you will do as I say!" She rounded on Ron. "And as for you young man, you are most certainly not of age, so I don't care what you think you are entitled to!"

"Molly." Dumbledore's quiet voice broke through her tirade, silencing her immediately. "Perhaps they should stay." Mrs. Weasley was floored.

"Now see here Albus, I don't want my children getting involved in this business. It's bad enough the trouble they always manage to find at school, I don't need them-"

"Molly, I am not suggesting that we involve them in Order business. But for the moment I only wish to talk with Harry about what has happened to him over the last few days. They are all naturally curious about what has happened to their friend, and I daresay that letting them stay will simply save Harry from having to repeat the story to them later. If we begin to stray into more…private matters, then I will of course ask the others to leave." Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, hesitating for a few moments before finally relenting.

"Oh alright. But if the headmaster asks you to leave, you will do so immediately and without argument, understood?" Ginny and Hermione instantly agreed, and Ron and the twins reluctantly nodded their assent as well.

"Very well then." Dumbledore's attention had not wavered from Harry as the others had argued with the Weasley matriarch, his tired eyes observing him intensely. "Shall we begin? Firstly, I hate to ask this of you Harry but could you please tell me what I caught you doing at Christmas time during your first year?"

"You found me looking into the Mirror of Erised," Harry replied smoothly. Dumbledore's shoulders seemed to sag a bit in relief.

"Thank you Harry. I hated to have to even ask, but I could not take the chance that you were not an imposter. Death Eaters could easily have captured you and used a polyjuice double to infiltrate us. Now then Harry, could you please tell me what happened on the night before your birthday?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "I wouldn't mind knowing that myself Professor. I don't remember anything until yesterday morning." Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted as he stared into Harry's eyes.

"Really?" Harry looked a little indignant at the question, and felt a slight twinge in his head, but it quickly disappeared.

"Really. I didn't even know that Death Eaters had been to Privet Drive until Ron told me a few minutes ago."

Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "I am sorry my boy, I do not doubt you. But this is a surprising turn of events. Shall we begin then with what you do remember?"

And so Harry spent the next ten minutes relating all that he could remember since waking up in the muggle hospital. Which, he realized while looking back on it, was actually not all that much. Dumbledore listened intently, only occasionally nodding his head thoughtfully. Ron was not so calm.

"They put needles _inside _of you!" he exclaimed in shock and horror when Harry described his time in the hospital, "I swear, these muggles are all absolutely barmy." Hermione shushed him and had to quickly explain what an I.V. was. "So they stab you with a needle just to give you a potion?" he asked incredulously. "Even Madam Pomfrey isn't that bad. Hell _Snape _isn't that bad…"

"Ronald Weasley! Language!"

Fred leaned over and smacked Ron in the back of the head. "Oy, shut it bigmouth. Some of us would like to hear the rest of it."

Ron had quieted and they had quickly moved on, Hermione gasping at the crazed police man who had chased Harry.

"My god, that's awful! I can't believe that he was actually shooting at you Harry, what if he had accidentally hit you." The Weasleys looked rather confused at Hermione's reaction, as none of them really understanding exactly what a gun was.

"That concerns me as well Ms. Granger," said Dumbledore, "but please, allow him to finish."

Hermione squeaked an apology and Harry continued.

"There really isn't much more to tell. I dodged around for a bit until he lost track of me, and hid behind one of the stones to catch my breath. I didn't know what to do; I thought I was done for. But then I thought of this place. I closed my eyes and thought about all of you and what you must have been doing right then, and it just seemed so clear to me. And I felt this squeeze, and when I opened my eyes I was here."

Hermione gasped, "Harry, you apparated!" He blinked slowly.

"Really?"

"You had to have," she continued excitedly, "I'm old enough to get my license this year, so I've been reading up on the theory. When you apparate, you are supposed to clearly focus on the location that you wish to travel to, to the exclusion of all else and you have to sort of will yourself there. There's magic involved as well, but the book stated that the magic wasn't nearly as important as being determined enough to travel there. It even describes that squeezing sensation that you mentioned. That has to be it!"

"I believe that Ms. Granger is correct," Dumbledore agreed, "and it is a remarkable achievement for one so young. Apparition is a fairly standard practice; almost any adult witch or wizard is capable of it, but they must be taught how. Harry appears to have discovered the secret on his own through an amazing feat of accidental magic. Bravo my boy. And while I am quite concerned as to how you came to leave Privet Drive, and what brought you halfway across England overnight, for now I am content that you are safe and well. Might I see that wand you said that you found?"

"Of course sir." Harry handed it over and Dumbledore accepted it carefully, turning it this way and that as he examined it. Finally he placed it on the table and pulled his own wand, pointing it at the other, muttering a few incantations. Nothing happened. Dumbledore returned the wand, which Harry quickly stowed back in his pocket.

"I can find no curses or enchantments upon the wand. It appears, despite its questionable origins, to be just a normal wand. Losing the brother to Lord Voldemort's wand might not be a bad thing, knowing how they react to each other." Harry noticed a mass flinch at the use of Voldemort's name from those at the table, though less so from Ginny. She looked more pissed off than scared. "And if this wand has chosen you as you say, then perhaps it is simply fate." Harry felt an odd twinge at the use of the word 'fate,' but the feeling passed quickly and he soon dismissed it.

"Well Harry, as you cannot return to your Aunt and Uncle's any longer, you shall remain here for the remainder of you summer holidays. We will need to discuss more permanent arrangements at some point, but that will not be for some time." Dumbledore's words drove an icy dagger straight into Harry's heart as he finally realized something. In all the excitement of returning to the Burrow and his friends, Harry had not made the connection. Death Eaters. Privet Drive.

"Sir," he asked quickly, "what happened to the Dursleys?" It was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked from the room. No one breathed. After a long pause, Dumbledore spoke.

"I truly do not know Harry. They were already gone when we arrived on the scene, and there was no trace of them. So if they did not escape with you…then we must assume that they were taken by Voldemort." Harry breathed deeply, unsure of how he felt. On the one hand, the Dursleys were absolute arseholes; they were the worst kind of bigots. But on the other hand he didn't know if anyone deserved the fate that likely awaited them. He shook his head.

"Sir, how did they penetrate the wards? You always told me how safe it was there." Dumbledore seemed to shrink, looking less like a powerful wizard and more like a sad, weary old man.

"I don't know Harry. The blood ward around that home was the most powerful protection that I have ever seen. Voldemort could have broken it, but it would have taken months of meticulous research, and even then the process would likely have taken several days and required a large number of blood rituals, none of which would have gone unnoticed. He would have had to besiege the whole street. I placed all of my trust in those wards…so much so that I did not place many other protections upon the house. However he removed your mother's protection, once he did so it would have been mere child's play to penetrate the rest of the wards." He shook his head sadly. "I…I don't know what to say Harry. I am so very sorry."

"It's alright sir, you couldn't have known what would happen."

"Thank you Harry," Dumbledore said as he stood, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. "I believe that will do for now, I am quite ready for a nap before this evening's meeting. Which reminds me Molly, please let Arthur know about it; Tonks is alerting the others." Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I had been hoping you would be able to shed more light on this situation Harry, but it seems you are as much in the dark as I. Never fear, I will continue my search to uncover what has happened to you, but for now just try to enjoy the rest of your summer. I will see all of you soon enough I daresay."

And with that he was gone, as swiftly as he had come. They all sat for a moment, everyone lost in their own thoughts, until Mrs. Weasley stood purposefully.

"Alright now, I know that we're all thrilled to have Harry back, but that doesn't mean that we can shirk our responsibilities. Fred, George, you were supposed to be back at work half an hour ago, off you get."

"Oh come on Mum," George said stretching languidly, "what's the point in owning the place if we can't skive off of work now and then?"

"Yeah, besides," Fred agreed, reaching over to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders, "it's not every day that someone returns from the dead."

"You shut your mouth this instant young man, I'll hear no more of that kind of talk. And it is exactly that kind of attitude that landed you so few OWL's at Hogwarts. Now get back to work right now or I won't be feeding you for a week."

George sighed and Fred looked dramatically at Harry, "She knows exactly how to get to us." They both stood and made their way toward the door. "It's good to see you're alright mate, we really were quite worried about you."

"That's true," said George, "we even talked about erecting a statue of you in the middle of the store."

Fred nodded, looking wistful, "It would have been marvelous. You, bare-chested, and wrestling a Hungarian Horntail. The girls would have flocked in to buy replicas."

"Out!"

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all laughed as the twin's quickly ducked out the door, and even Harry gave a chuckle despite his embarrassed blush. Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at him.

"Harry dear, why don't you go upstairs and lie down, I'm sure you're exhausted." She turned to the others, "And you three head outside, there's some gardening for you to take care of."

All three of them objected loudly, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't budge.

"Not another word. Harry needs rest, not you three hounding him."

"Please Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, "I'll help with the garden, I don't mind."

"Oh that's sweet of you dear, but really I think you need to try to rest." Harry shook his head.

"No really Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine. All I've been doing is resting for the most part. Muggles tend to not let you do much else when you're in the hospital. Please, I'd rather spend the afternoon with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny." She looked thoughtful for a moment, staring intently at him as the other looked on hopefully. Finally she relented, "Oh alright. But I had better not see you over exerting yourself young man, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am!" he replied as he, Ginny and Hermione headed off to the garden. Ron stayed behind, shooting pitying looks to his mother as he glanced back and forth between her and the table.

"Alright, fix up a plate and take it outside with you," she sighed, "maybe this will make you think twice before you decide to sleep in." Ron beamed and leapt into action, grabbing everything he could fit onto a single plate and grabbing a glass of juice before hurrying off to join the others.

Mrs. Weasley began clearing the table, a wave of her wand depositing all of the dirty dishes in the nearby sink. Rolling up her sleeves, she dove her hands into the soapy water. She could clean all of them with magic of course, and normally would, but when she was upset she found that she much preferred doing things the muggle way.

And so she scrubbed…and scrubbed and scrubbed. She scrubbed until her fingers hurt and then kept going, tears welling up in her eyes. For days she had remained strong, pushing the children hard and herself even harder, anything to keep all of their minds off of Harry. Trying not to think about the awful things that could be happening to him, or that he might already be dead. And now that he was back home where he belonged…it was just too much, and she finally began to sob, covering her face with her still dripping hands. She stayed like that for quite some time.

Harry and the girls had barely made it to the small Weasley garden when Ron came running behind them, plate and glass in hand and shouting "Wait!" at the top of his lungs. Laughing, they obligingly stopped and waited for him to catch up. Entering the small enclosure that marked the garden, Ron made his way to a small patch of shade, his back against the wall of the house as he sank to the ground and began to tear into his lunch. Ginny glared at him, annoyed.

"Well he'll be busy for a while, so it'll be just us three doing all the work."

"It's fine Ginny, I don't mind," laughed Harry, "I'm just happy to be back here at the Burrow."

"Trust me mate," Ron choked out, his mouth full of potatoes, "we're glad to have you back. Thought you were a goner for sure this time ."

"Ronald," chastised Hermione, "could you at least try to use a little tact?" Ron shrugged.

"Well it's the truth, id'n it?" Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes as if to say 'He's hopeless.'

Harry and Ginny both laughed as they knelt down into the dirt and began pulling weeds.

"Can I ask you something Harry?" Hermione asked as she joined them.

"Of course."

"Well," she began, slightly hesitantly, "I didn't say anything before because I didn't think it was very important what with everything else. But I can't help but notice that your glasses are missing. Do you know what happened to them? Honestly, as bad as your eyes are I'm surprised you haven't tripped over someone yet."

Ron's brow wrinkled and he look up from what little remained of his lunch to stare intently at Harry's face, looking for the trademark glasses that Harry had worn since the first moment he had met him on the Hogwart's Express.

"Bloody hell! You're right Hermione!"

"Watch your language Ronald. And of course I'm right."

"I don't know where they are Hermione," Harry said in answer to her question, "that was the first thing I looked for when I woke up; it's a reflex by now. But couldn't find them anywhere. And then I noticed that I didn't seem to need them anymore, I can see perfectly fine now."

"And you don't find that strange?" she asked, shocked. "Why didn't you inform the Headmaster?"

"Well like you said," he replied, shrugging, "it didn't seem that important. Compared to everything else at least."

"Still you should inform the Headmaster right away." He waved her off.

"I will Hermione, next time we talk I'll tell him." She glared at him. "I swear, the next time we talk. I'm not going to go running off trying to get a hold of him just for this, ok?"

She finally relented, "All right Harry."

"Anything else you wanted to ask."

"Now that you mention it," she said, "there is something else different about you. I just can't quite put my finger on it."

"It's the smell mate," Ron said, licking his fingers, "you need a bath something awful. I could probably smell you halfway to the village. It's like you bathed in troll spit for Merlin's sake."

At the mention of the word 'Merlin' Harry felt an emotion that he couldn't identify well up inside of him as it had earlier, but again it vanished as soon as it had appeared. He sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Good lord, I do," he said quickly, forestalling the objection that he knew was coming from Hermione on his behalf. "Must have been all the running. I do need a shower, but what am I going to change into? I don't have any of my things, it was all at Privet…" His voice trailed off as he considered the implications. No trunk meant no clothes, no books, and most importantly, no invisibility cloak or Marauder's map.

"No worries," Ron said, stretching out and closing his eyes, "your stuff's upstairs in my room." Harry looked surprised. "What? Dumbledore brought your stuff here right after you disappeared; left it in case they were able to find you and bring you back."

"But how? If it was still there when Voldemort attacked, then surely they would have taken it? My invisibility cloak, the map…they'd be powerful weapons in his hands." Ron shrugged.

"No idea mate. But they didn't take anything, I checked. Maybe after they couldn't find you, they were too busy worrying about what…you know…_he_, was going to do to them to think about stealing your stuff." Harry shrugged as well; he might never know the reasons behind it, but he supposed he should just be grateful.

"Anyway," Hermione ground out, clearly annoyed at their changing the subject, "as I was saying…there's something different about you Harry, but I just can't put my finger on it."

"It's his eyes." This came from Ginny, and the other three all turned to see her busily pulling weeds from in between the vegetables, her eyes staring hard at the dirt. Hermione blinked, and then gasped.

"Of course! How could I not have seen it before?"

"Seen what," Harry asked, concerned, "what about my eyes?"

"They're different," Ginny answered, "for one, they aren't green anymore. They're blue."

"What?" Harry was in complete shock. He liked his eyes; they were the one feature that he had inherited from his mother. And as annoying as it could be to have people constantly telling him that, he rather liked having something of hers. It had always made him feel closer to her somehow. But now apparently that was gone. He unconsciously raised a hand to the side of his face at the level of his eyes. _What is happening to me?_

"Harry, you have to-"

"Tell Dumbledore?" Harry snapped, "I know, thanks Hermione." She flinched and he instantly regretted his tone. He mumbled an apology and she nodded her acceptance.

"That was a nice spot Ginny," Hermione said, her voice a little tight. "I completely missed it myself. How did you know?" Ginny, still weeding furiously, merely shrugged and muttered something about thinking it was 'obvious'.

The group fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence as they continued to work, with Ron reluctantly joining them after a glare from Hermione had him fearing for his life. Within an hour they had completely finished work on the garden and were standing about chatting when they spotted them. Two gnomes had clambered over the far back wall and were trying to surreptitiously make their way forward towards the newly cleaned garden.

"We'd best go get them mate," Ron said reluctantly, "we let those two take up here and we'll be out here again tomorrow digging up their entire families." The two wizards waited until the gnomes were climbing over the garden fence before making their move, darting forward with arms outstretched. The two gnomes blanched at the sight of the approaching boys, quickly diving to opposite sides trying to make a break for it. They had no chance.

Within moments, both boys stood holding a tiny wriggling blob of flesh that was still desperately kicking and screaming in a bid for freedom. The pair made their way to the back fence, packages in hand and girls in tow. Ron threw first, tossing his in a high lob, going for more height then distance. The gnome landed in a small puff of dirt, lying still for a brief moment before rolling to its feet, shaking its tiny little fist at them, and slinking off.

"Alright mate, you're up," Ron said, smiling. Harry stepped forward and took his friends place, readying his throw. As soon as he let go with one hand to prepare for the toss, the tiny creature lurched out and bit him hard on the finger.

"OWW!" he screamed in agony, dropping the triumphant gnome, who made a fast break for the garden once more. He didn't get far. Harry caught up to him in three long strides, grasping him again with both hands. There was fear in the creature's eyes as he locked gazes with the boy who lived. Harry didn't bother with the throw this time, simply dropping the creature with both hands and lashing out with his foot, catching it in its small, wrinkled arse and sending it flying.

The moment that his foot made contact with the wailing creature, he felt a small burst of magic. And the gnome just kept going and going…until suddenly it was gone, lost over the horizon. The others stared in shock, and he found himself just as shocked as they were. Finally Ron spoke.

"Bloody hell Harry…I think you just broke the record!"


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to HP.

AN: A surprising (to me at least) number of people expressed concern or even distress at the change to Harry's eyes last chapter. Because it has been asked, yes it has something to do with the story, and no I will not be changing them back. I am sorry if that disappoints too many of you, and if you feel that you can't continue to read my story, then I will of course understand. But fair warning, if you got upset about what happened to his eyes, then this chapter is probably going to upset you just as much. Also, warning to all readers, this chapter is the first in my opinion to actually earn the M rating that I have given to this story, so if you are going to be offended by that, best to stop now. Please everyone enjoy the chapter and of course, reviews are always appreciated.

_He stepped through the front door, his features twisted in disgust; to think that this pathetic hovel was the home of his most hated enemy. He hoped his Death Eaters had already subdued Potter and saved him the trouble, because he wanted to be away from this disgusting place as soon as possible._

_Bellatrix met him as he entered and led him to the sitting room, where Lucius and the others stood around three terrified huddled forms. Lucius bowed deeply before him._

"_My Lord," he said in his most sycophantic tone, "your plan worked perfectly, without the blood wards in place -" _

"_Enough of your boot licking Lucius," Lord Voldemort interrupted. "Now tell me, where is Potter?" _

_Lucious looked positively terrified, and Voldemort's slit-like eyes narrowed; this did not bode well._

"_Well you see my Lord, after we breached the wards, we instantly moved on the boy's room. Mulciber, Goyle, and myself entered to apprehend him. Potter was present, but there was another with him, an old man."_

"_Dumbledore," Voldemort growled. _

"_No my Lord," Lucius said after the last explosion had quieted, "it was not the headmaster. I did not recognize him whoever he was. But the moment that we entered he waved at us and disapparated with the boy in tow."_

"_So you have failed me once again Lucius," Voldemort said, his voice dangerously quiet, "I am most…displeased." Lucius went down to one knee and bowed his head, speaking quickly in an effort to save his skin._

"_Please my Lord, there was nothing that could be done. Potter obviously knew that we were coming somehow." He held out his hand, gesturing to the cowering forms behind him. "These are the boy's relatives, the ones that we used to break the blood magic. They must have had a change of heart and warned the boy that we were coming."_

"_Now see here, we did nothing of the sor -" Vernon Dursley shouted until Lucius spun and delivered a vicious backhand to his face, cutting him off._

"_Silence you insignificant muggle worm," he snarled, "you do not deserve to speak to our master."_

_Voldemort was nearly shaking with fury, but he knew that there was no time for him to vent his rage right now. That old fool Dumbledore could not have missed the destruction of the wards he had enacted on this place, and would likely be here soon with his pathetic Order in tow. The time was not yet right for that battle, so he needed to move quickly in order to stay one step ahead._

"_We are leaving – now. I will deal with you when we return Lucius."_

"_Of course my Lord," Lucius replied, trying not to let his voice tremble._

"_What of the filth, my Lord," Bellatrix asked hungrily, "shall I…dispose of them?"_

"_No," he answered quickly, "bring them. I will learn the truth from them…then you may have your fun my dear." Her smile was viscous._

"_Thank you, my Lord. You are too kind."_

"_Please, no, we don't know anything!" Petunia cried desperately. Crabbe Sr. reached out a giant hand and grabbed her throat, cutting off any more pleas for mercy. Bellatrix laughed as the pitiful muggle began to turn blue from lack of oxygen._

"_Release her Crabbe," she said after a moment. "You must be careful not to kill her - yet." His hand immediately eased off of her throat as he nodded his apologies to Voldemort's favored lieutenant. Voldemort smiled coldly; he always appreciated Bella's love for the finer things in life. He turned and exited the house, waiting as his Death Eaters followed him with the prisoners. As soon as the last wizard had exited the building, he brought his wand down in a vicious slashing motion, flinging a brightly colored spell back through the open doorway. _

_The house exploded, the spell ripping through the walls and firing chunks of debris out onto the front lawn, but Voldemort had already turned on the spot and vanished, his Death Eater's quickly following. _

_Moments later he reappeared, popping into existence on the front doorstep of Malfoy Manor and quickly strode inside knowing the others would not be far behind with the muggles. Sure enough, he was not even through the front door when he heard the tell-tale pops of the others arriving behind him. He proceed through the entrance hall and through several more rooms, the prisoner's being dragged just behind him, until he arrived at the Malfoy's grand dining room. _

_It was an enormous room, and not often used. Originally, it was designed as a place where the Malfoys, always a wealthy and influential family, could entertain the elite of pureblood society as well as the politician's of the day. Now it served as the Dark Lord's throne room._

_Voldemort strode to the rear of the room, easing himself into the high-backed wooden chair that sat on a small dais as his Death Eaters deposited the terrified muggles before him. He smiled smoothly at them._

"_Come now," he said reasonably, "there is no reason to be frightened. Merely answer my questions, and no harm will come to you. In fact, I will reward you; ask any of these fine wizards here, and they will tell you how generous Lord Voldemort can be to those who serve him well."_

_Vernon did not move, still apparently cowed by the blow Lucius had dealt him. But Petunia managed a small, weak nod. _

"_Excellent," Voldemort said, "now then, where is Harry Potter?"_

_Petunia shook her head again, eyes wide in terror as she whispered, "I don't know." Voldemort's snake like eyes narrowed in barely restrained fury._

"_Do not lie to the Dark Lord, you muggle whore," Lucius shouted, nearly hysterical, "we know that you helped that damned boy escape! Now answer the question!" Lucius was literally shaking with rage and fear as he held his wand on the trembling woman. The youngest Dursley leapt to his feet to defend his mother, but was quickly subdued by the much larger Goyle, who wrapped a single beefy arm around the young man's neck and squeezed painfully._

"_Leave her alone you fucking arsehole," he managed to choke out, "she doesn't know anything about Potter or anything else, so just…leave her the fuck alone!"_

"_More lies," Lucius snarled, bowing deeply to the motionless Voldemort, "don't worry my Lord, I will force the truth from them." He turned to Petunia Dursley once again and leveled his wand at her. _

_Horrified and infuriated at the abuse that was being heaped on his family, Dudley Dursley finally snapped, and any fear that he had felt was replaced by a white hot, righteous fury. His captor had made the serious mistake of thinking that holding him with only one arm was sufficient. In the case of a wizard, who rarely ever resorted to physical violence, preferring to settle their disputes with a wand, this might have been true. But it was a serious error when dealing with an angry, teenage, inter-school boxing champion._

_Dudley brought his right arm forward and then slammed it back as hard as he possibly could, driving his elbow into Goyle's stomach and up into his diaphragm with the force of a freight train. The brutish man staggered back, clutching his stomach and trying his best to suck in oxygen. As soon as Dudley was free, and faster than any of the stunned Death Eaters could react, he whirled on Malfoy, his fist cocked and already soaring through the air._

"_Crucio-"_

_The unforgivable was rudely interrupted by the impact of Dudley's fist with Malfoy's jaw. There was a loud, sickening crack followed by a spray of blood and teeth as Malfoy's head whipped around from the force of the blow. The pretentious blonde wizard slumped to the ground clutching his bleeding mouth as Dudley raised his fists into a ready position, glaring defiantly down the length of a dozen drawn wands as he stood guard over his now sobbing mother. Lucius slowly clambered to his feet, still spitting up mouthfuls of blood as he pointed his own wand at the muggle teen._

"_Avada Kad-" _

_Yet another incomplete unforgivable as Lucius flew high threw the air, slamming to a bone-jarring halt as he hit the far wall. The other Death Eaters gaped in shock at Dudley for a moment before they noticed that Voldemort had finally risen from his throne, his wand raised. _

"_Do not presume," he said, his voice cold and menacing as he addressed his stunned followers, "to think that any of you can execute one of my prisoners without my order. No matter how badly they may have embarrassed you." Lucius struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support._

"_For-forgive me my Lord," he managed to sputter despite a mouthful of blood._

"_No amount of your pathetic posturing will cause me to forget your abysmal failure this night. I should have left you in Azkaban to rot. Get out of my sight Lucius, I will punish you later." Malfoy was trembling, trying vainly to disguise his fear as he muttered a small, "Yes, my Lord," before exiting the room, hand clutching his side. Voldemort did not give him another thought, and instead turned his attention back to the muggle boy who still stood with jaw clenched, ready to strike. With a cold smile and a casual flick of his wand, Dudley suddenly found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move._

"_I am amused by your spirit boy," Voldemort chuckled, "truly I am. But you really must learn to show respect to your betters. Now, one of you will answer my question! Where is Harry Potter?"_

_Dudley was still unable to move, and Petunia appeared to be frozen in fear, but the question finally seemed to raise Vernon from his stupor._

"_Now-now see here you," he shouted from his position on the floor, "we have no idea where that little freak is and we couldn't care less. We gave you what you asked for, now we want nothing to do with any of you, or your unnaturalness, so just leave us alone."_

"_Now then Mr. Dursley," Voldemort said, his eye's narrowing, "there is no need for that kind of rudeness. My Death Eaters inform me that an unknown man was present in your home this evening and helped Potter escape me. There is no other way that anyone could have known that we were coming on this night, so you must have warned Potter beforehand."_

"_Believe me," Vernon hissed, "I wouldn't be caught dead doing that boy a favor. He's a freak of nature, just like the rest of your lot. Since the day he came to my doorstep he has been a burden on my family; I should have drowned him the moment we got him."_

_Voldemort stalked forward slowly, his wand raised, until he towered over the still kneeling Dursely. His look was that of deepest loathing._

"_So…I am a freak, am I Dursely?"_

_The elder Dursely was literally shaking with fear as he realized that in his hatred of his nephew, he had directly insulted the evil dark wizard who held him captive. Voldemort took a step back._

"_As much as I despise Potter, he is at the very least a wizard. That is far more than you can claim you pathetic little muggle. You are no more than a bug to be squashed by Lord Voldemort on his rise to glory!"_

_Vernon flinched at this final shout, and the Death Eaters that encircled them cheered loudly. Voldemort smiled again, and if anything it was even more sinister than before. _

"_I think," he began, speaking loudly over the noise of his still cheering Death Eaters, "that it is time you learned your true place in this world Mr. Dursely." His wand came down in a vicious slash and pointed directly to Vernon's heart. The enormous man jerked once, his entire jaw clenching as he began to shake even more violently, and this time not from fear. He slowly began to diminish in size, his massive bulk shrinking further and further; his pale white skin darkening and hardening to a shell like substance. His eyes began to bulge weirdly out of his head, and his hair all receded into his skull, save for two thin strands that elongated and widened into two large antennae. Petunia fainted dead away, and Dudley wished he could as well, as they both saw their husband and father transfigured into a rather fat, six inch long cockroach. The Death Eaters were roaring with laughter as Voldemort watched his creation scurry about on the floor. He signaled for silence and his subjects responded at once._

"_Do you see now muggle," he said coldly, "it is not I who am the freak…it is you. Your kind is nothing compared to us; you are a stain upon this world, and I intend to put you all in your proper place." He raised one booted foot and drove it home, smashing the giant cockroach into the expensive wooden paneling that comprised the Malfoy's floor and spilling yellow ichor in all directions. "Beneath my boot."_

_His Death Deater's cheered wildly for him, many of them praising his creativity in dealing with the muggle, while Bellatrix looked to be in an outright frenzy at the wanton depth of her master's cruelty. Dudley felt like being sick, but the spell which held him prevented him from even doing that. Voldemort waved his wand at the unconscious Petunia and she instantly jutted awake, only to begin screaming as she saw the pile of gore where her transfigured husband has once been. Another wave of his wand quickly cut her off mid scream. _

"_Sooner or later, you will tell me what I want to know," Voldemort said to her softly, "everyone does." Yet a third wand wave restored her voice, but she merely knelt on the floor crying, too overcome to say any more. Voldemort shrugged, "Have it your way. Crucio!" Her screams echoed throughout Malfoy Manor…and she screamed…and screamed…_

Harry burst awake with a strangled gasp, clutching his scar, which felt as if it had been lit on fire. Attempting to get out of bed, he found himself tangled in the sheets and fell face first to the hard wooden floor of Ron's room at the Burrow, where he quickly vomited all over the floor. As soon as it could, his hand went straight back to his forehead; the pain did not seem to be dulling at all.

He screamed out in agony, rousing a sleepy Ron who nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Harry's desperate cries. Rushing to his side, Ron knelt and shook the alternately sobbing and screaming Harry.

"Harry? Mate, come on, snap out of it? Is it You-Know –Who? Come on!" Finally realizing that this was far beyond him, he sprinted for the door, nearly tearing the old wood from its hinges as he ran into the hallway shouting "Mum!" at the top of his lungs.

Harry remained where he was, his hand still clutching his burning forehead. He gave another scream, but this one was different. While the others had contained a mixture of shock, horror, and pain, this was a more primal scream, like a wounded animal defending itself. A bright blue glow spilled out from underneath his hand as his scream continued. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

The glow faded just as his scream died to nothing and his hand, which had previously been clutching his forehead in a death grip, fell with a thump to the floor, relaxed. His distorted features slowly resumed the look of a peaceful teenage boy enjoying a restful sleep. That was exactly how the Weasleys and Hermione found him moments later as they entered the room, flat on his back and snoring contentedly.

Mrs. Weasley, who was still pulling closed the knot on her dressing gown, hurried to the prone Harry, examining him for injuries. Mr. Weasley meanwhile had entered with wand drawn, eyes darting to and fro as he searched for signs of any intruder.

"I'm telling you Dad, there was no one here," Ron said as he entered right behind his father.

"You can never be too careful son," Mr. Weasley replied, "not in these times, and especially not with Harry."

Ron nodded his understanding as they both joined the others gathered around the prone figure.

"Is he alright Mum?" Ginny asked nervously as her mother examined the now peaceful Harry.

"I don't know Ginny," Mrs. Weasley replied uncertainly, "I don't see anything wrong with him. But those screams…"

"He must have dreamed about You-Know-Who," Hermione whispered. "You remember last year don't you? With the visions?"

Suddenly Ginny gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

"What is it Ginny," her mother asked quickly as she turned to her and began to examine her as well, "is something wrong?"

Ginny shook her head quickly and pointed to the sleeping Harry.

"Look," she whispered, her voice shaking, "look at his scar."

They all turned again to Harry, eyes automatically looking to his trademark scar that had made him known throughout the wizarding world. It was gone. Gone was the lightning bolt scar that marked his encounter with Voldemort nearly 15 years ago, and that had plagued him constantly since his return. In its place was smooth, clear skin. At the moment, the bright pink color of new skin made the former outline easily recognizable, but even that would fade with time.

The entire family sat stunned, staring at the young man that had become as much a member of their family as any of them. Harry did not awaken, smiling slightly in his sleep as he fidgeted slightly.

And somewhere far away, deep inside of Malfoy Manor, Lord Voldemort was screaming…


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, just this story.

_A/N: Again, I'm a little late and I apologize. I never post unless I already have the next chapter ready in case the unforeseen happens, and the next chapter was a doozy. But I am back on track now, and hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think._

Harry awoke slowly, one arm reaching up to rub his half closed eyes as he slowly stretched and began to sit up in bed. A dull, throbbing pain began as soon as he started sitting up, and he quickly slumped back onto the pillow, one hand going to his pounding forehead.

"Ughh," he moaned softly, "did anyone get the number of that bus?"

He heard a small, feminine giggle nearby, and turned his head to see Ginny perched at the foot of his bed.

"G-Ginny," he stammered, struggling to pull his sheets higher to cover his bare chest, "what are you doing in here?" He tried to sit up once more but again, he fell back clutching his forehead and growling through clenched teeth.

"Shh, lie back," Ginny said gently, lifting a small hand to his chest and gently pressing him back into the bed. "We've been taking turns sitting with you since last night, waiting for you to wake up."

"What happened," Harry groaned, "and why do I feel like I was just run over by the Hogwarts Express?" Ginny giggled softly as she pushed aside his hand and stroked his sweaty forehead with a cold cloth.

"We aren't exactly sure," she admitted, "but it looks like you had a nightmare. Not any kind of nightmare I've ever experienced though," she added, almost whispering. As she spoke his mind flashed back through a mix of horrifying scenes as he broke through the throbbing pulse in his head and brought the memories boiling to the surface. Despite his disgust, he tried to push the information to the back of his mind and focus on the girl sitting in front of him. Finally he smiled faintly.

"Yeah, you've had plenty of experience with them yourself, haven't you? After everything that happened in the Chamber of Secrets…" She nodded hesitantly and matched his small smile with one of her own. "I'm sorry about that."

Ginny shook her head vehemently, "Oh no you don't Harry Potter! It took me a long time to admit to myself that the whole thing wasn't my fault. But I've learned to accept that the blame lies with Tom, and no one else. So wise up you great noble prat."

"Yes ma'am," Harry chuckled, "but that's not exactly what I meant. I just meant that I was sorry that I never even asked you about it. I never checked to see if you were alright or anything. I guess I just didn't know what to say; you were so young and I didn't know you very well, so…" He trailed off and shrugged, sounding ashamed of his younger self's actions. "I'm sorry. I guess that sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own nightmares that I forget that others might have them too."

Ginny blushed and tucked a loose strand of flaming hair behind her ear as she dunked the washcloth in the nearby bucket of water to wet it again before reapplying it to Harry's forehead.

"It's alright Harry. I'll admit that I probably wouldn't even have been able to talk to you back then even if you had offered." She blushed even more deeply. "I still had too big of a crush on you. But it turned out ok; the whole family was really supportive of me right after everything happened, if a little smothering sometimes. And Bill helped a lot. That's a big part of the reason that Mum and Dad chose to go to Egypt when they won all those galleons. He's always been the one who looked out for me the most. Guess it's a side effect of being the oldest; you feel like the younger kids are partly your responsibility. Anyway, he talked with me a lot that summer, and afterwards I slowly started healing." She laid the cloth down on his head and stood from the chair she had been occupying.

"But still…thanks. I really should go get Dumbledore now. He wanted whoever was with you to fetch him as soon as you woke up. Mum'll already have my head for not telling them you're up sooner."

Harry laughed softly, leery of setting off his headache again, "I won't tell if you won't."

She smiled and walked towards the door, pausing just before exiting the room and turning back slightly to look at his prone form.

"I'm glad that you're ok Harry. Try not to scare us like that again, yeah?"

And with that she was gone. Harry shook his still aching head ruefully. _No promises there. I don't know what the hell is even happening to me, much less how to stop it. _A long, uneventful minute passed, until he finally heard a set of soft slow footsteps approaching the open doorway. Through it stepped Albus Dumbledore, who was if Harry was not mistaken wearing the same robe he had been yesterday.

"So my boy, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked tiredly as he waved his wand, conjuring a large comfortable chair and easing himself into it.

"Alright I guess," Harry answered as he slowly sat up in bed to face Dumbledore.

"Well you certainly are keeping me on my toes. It hasn't even been a full day since I was last here. The Weasleys have informed me that you might have experienced a vision related to Voldemort?" Harry nodded gravely. "Tell me about it." And so he did; slowly, painstakingly he repeated everything he had seen to the silent headmaster.

"I see," Dumbledore said quietly after Harry had finished. "Tell me, did you view the scene from Voldemort's perspective? Or perhaps through Nagini as you did before?"

"No sir," Harry replied, "I wasn't inside his head. It was more like I was outside it. Like I was a spectator watching it all from the sidelines." Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he stroked his long beard with one hand.

"Indeed…almost like you were viewing a memory in a Pensieve…from what you have told me Harry, I do not believe that what you saw was truly a vision. I believe that it was a memory."

"But why sir," Harry asked, bewildered, "why would he show me a memory? All of the other visions I've had have been flashes from his head, from the present; that and the vision of Sirius. But this memory isn't going to convince me to do something reckless, so what's the point?"

"He might not have had one, his intent might have been as simple as causing you emotional pain. But in this instance, if what the Weasleys tell me is true, then I believe that he may have made a grave error."

"What do you mean sir, what did they tell you?"

Dumbledore looked as serious as Harry had ever seen him, and it was starting to make Harry a bit nervous.

"It has to do with what happened to you last night my boy. If you would be so kind, could please move your hair away from your scar?"

"My scar?" Harry asked, puzzled as he did as the headmaster asked, shifting his hair to the side with one hand. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, still stroking his massive beard.

"Extraordinary," he whispered to himself, "but could it mean…"

"What is it sir?" Harry said, starting to feel alarmed, "Is something wrong with my scar?"

"You could say that," Dumbledore said vaguely before waving his wand and conjuring a small hand mirror which he then handed to Harry. He didn't have to look long before he saw it. The scar that had marked him since his parent's death; that had brought him fame and ridicule in equal measure from the wizarding world, was gone. It was not merely faded, it was gone, with only a faint outline of pink new skin to mark the outline where it had been.

Harry gaped in astonishment. He could not even remember a time when he did not have his scar. His whole life it had marked him as different, first in his muggle school where Dudley and his gang had teased him for being a freakish "scarhead", and then even more so when he entered the wizarding world. From his first step into the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, people who he had never seen before in his life were approaching him, thanking him, wanting to meet him. And as much as he had hated all of the attention it gave him, he had always thought of it as a part of him, and now it was gone.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that the pain that he had felt in his head since he awoke had not emanated from his scar as it normally did. For the past year since Voldemort's return the pain from his scar had been his almost constant companion; sometimes no more than a dull ache and sometimes hurting so badly that he felt certain that it would tear open from the pain. But the pain felt different this time. And as much as the missing scar was causing his head to spin, he felt lighter somehow, like a great weight that he had lived with all of his life had suddenly been lifted from his forehead.

"What…how?" Harry stammered, unsure of where to even begin.

"I do not know," Dumbldore admitted honestly.

"Speculate," Harry said with a hard edge to his voice. He still remembered their conversation from the end of last year, and as noble as Dumbledore's intentions might be, this was hardly the time for him to keep Harry out of the loop. The old headmaster was silent for several long, tense moments, during which Harry hardly dared to breathe. Finally he seemed to answer some sort of internal question and spoke.

"I have told you before that I believe that Voldemort is linked to you through your scar; that is how you acquired access to his thoughts and how he shared some of his power with you long ago." Harry nodded impatiently. He knew all of this already. "Well with the removal of your scar coinciding with the fact that Voldemort was in a way attacking your mind, I can come to only one conclusion. Your connection, your bond, with Lord Vodemort has been destroyed."

Harry sat in a stunned silence, feeling the edges of a nervous breakdown begin to creep into his head as he attempted to process all of the information being forced on him.

"From what you have said it seems obvious to me," Dumbledore continued on in the silence, "that Voldemort attacked you with a horrible memory, most likely in an attempt to punish you for escaping him. And though I do not know how, it also appears that during this nightmare, you were able to somehow force Voldemort from your mind, and in doing so, burn away your connection to him."

"How?" was all poor Harry could manage, his mind still reeling.

"As I said, I do not know," Dumbledore said apologetically, "this is all complete conjecture. I examined you myself when I first arrived, and though I found rather substantial traces of magic around the area in question, it was nothing that I recognized. Whatever freed you from your scar is something that I have never before seen.

_Well that's a little disconcerting_, Harry said to himself, _I've always thought of Dumbledore as this fountain of knowledge, but even he's at a loss. _

"What does this mean sir? For me that is?" Dumbledore stared at Harry's wide eyes, lacing his fingers together and raising them up in front of his face thoughtfully.

"I am not sure. There is a theory that I have been working on for quite some time, and I am very close to proving it. And if I am right, then this theory may well explain what has happened to your scar. You have asked me to speculate and I have done so, but I cannot speak any further on this until I am certain." Harry looked mutinous and Dumbledore quickly held up a placating hand to forestall any outburst. "Please Harry, I am not trying to hide this from you…but this is neither the time nor the place to delve into this further. Give me some time to complete my investigation and you have my word that I will hold nothing back from you."

Harry wanted so much to be angry with the old man. Once again he was withholding information that Harry ached to know, and once again had perfectly logical explanations about why he couldn't share it. For days now Harry had been bombarded with one surprise after another. His scar had been a part of who he was for nearly his entire life and his eyes for even longer, and yet they were both taken from him in what seemed a single moment. And all of this happening just weeks after Sirius' death…it was almost too much, and he wasn't sure just how much more he could take. But despite all of it, he still could not bring himself to be angry with Dumbledore.

"Alright sir," he said with a great sigh, "but I'll hold you to that promise." Dumbledore nodded seriously.

"Of course my boy, I would expect nothing less."

"How long do you expect this to take?"

"Not long I expect," Dumbledore said, removing an antique pocket watch from his robes and checking the time. "I was very close to finding the answers I sought when you disappeared, so now that I can return to the search it should not take me long to pick up where I left off."

"So will you come back then," Harry asked, "once you've tested your theory I mean? To tell me?" Dumbledore was shaking his head before Harry even finished speaking.

"No. I would prefer to have this conversation in the safety and security of Hogwarts."

"But why," Harry said, "no one at the Burrow is going to betray anything to Voldemort. How is it not safe here?"

"Please Harry, just trust me," Dumbledore said pleadingly. "I meant no slight on any of the Weasleys, but we can take no chances with this information. If I am right…it could mean everything." Harry was impatient and didn't like the sound of having to wait to find out what was happening to him; of course he liked the ominous tone of Dumbledore's voice even less. He nodded his acceptance.

"Yes sir. So when can we talk then?"

"You can come to my office on the first night of term if you wish, after the feast."

Harry nodded, "I'll be there."

"Very well then," Dumbledore said as he stood, stretching old, tired muscles. "I shall take my leave. I will need to resume my work immediately. Please Harry, enjoy the rest of your summer, and try not to worry too much. The future will come at its own pace, so there is no need to try and hasten it." Giving Harry a small salute while tucking into a short bow, Dumbledore turned to leave.

"Professor," Harry called out, stopping the headmaster in his tracks," I forgot to tell you, my eyes-"

"Have changed color?" Harry blinked in surprise then nodded. "Yes, I did not realize it until after I left yesterday. I have not been so exhausted since I was a much younger man. Thank you for telling me though Harry."

"Any idea what it means sir?"

"None," Dumbledore answered, shrugging, "I suppose it is simply a part of the great mystery that lies before us. I am sure that the answer will come…in time." Dumbledore turned to leave again, but stopped as once more Harry's voice called out to him, though much softer now, as if he were afraid of the answer to this question.

"Professor. The nightmares…are- are they really gone?" Dumbledore paused a moment before answering.

"Yes my boy…I believe that they are." And with that he turned, and was gone, closing the door behind him.

Harry laid his head back against the pillow, completely overwhelmed as he felt tears welling in his eyes. The events of the past day were finally catching up with him, and he closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed and exhausted._ I'll just lay here for a few more minutes_, Harry thought tiredly as he slowly drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, only my own story.

_A/N: Hey there folks. This one is a little longer than usual, and that's kind of my apology, because it may be a while until I can update again. I am definitely not abandoning this guys, but I am having some pretty serious family drama occurring at the moment, and between that and work I hardly have any time to spend writing, and even when I do the stress is killing my creativity._

_Also, for anyone who thinks the last couple of chapters have been pretty slow, have no fear, there is much more excitement planned, and it will be coming soon. Starting next chapter the pace will pick up just a bit and you are going to see a little more progression with the H/G relationship as well as some pretty fun action. Also, my beta had some ideas about changing some of the formatting in the earlier chapters that I like_. _So if I can't seem to get creative one night I might just go ahead and work on that. No content will be changed, but I just wanted to warn you so that no one messages me and asks why a chapter is missing or something. Just a little rearranging folks. Anyway, sorry for going on, please enjoy and review._

"On your right!" Harry heard as he knifed through the air towards the makeshift goal hanging before him. He reacted instinctively, rolling to his left and nosing down, narrowly dodging the speeding figure that was George Wesley as he tried to snatch the Quaffle from Harry's grasp. In the corner of his eye he could see Fred flying alongside him, slowly edging closer as he waited for George to pull around; clearly they intended to sandwich him between them and force the Quaffle from his hands.

Looking ahead at his target, he could see Bill Weasley hovering on his broom, arms outstretched as he inched forward, expecting Harry to try for a long distance shot before the twins could enact their plan. Harry smiled. They were going to be bitterly disappointed.

"Now!" he shouted, dropping the Quaffle as he did so and immediately pulling the nose of his broom up, climbing steeply. The twins began to follow him out of reflex, before realizing too late that he no longer had the ball. They both dropped back down, but it was already too late. Moments after Harry first dropped it, the small red ball had been caught in the outstretched arms of Ginny Weasley, who had been waiting below.

She blasted upward like a rocket, now flying straight towards the wide-eyed form of her eldest brother and showing no sign of slowing down. She was within feet of him when she finally made her move, twisting to her right and passing within inches of him, causing him to flinch. That left no one to oppose her shot, which she made with a flourish and a triumphant cry of "Yes!" as the ball sailed through the unprotected hoop.

"Sorry boys," Ginny said with an enormous grin on her face, "but that's fifteen to eight; we win."

"This is totally unfair Fred," George said disbelievingly, "no one told us our little sister was so good."

"Indeed George, "Fred replied as the whole group began to descend to the ground below, "I have to say, I feel like the teams were a little unfair."

"That's funny," Ginny said, glaring, "since I recall you two were the ones who set the teams up like this in the first place."

Not that Harry had minded of course; even after agreeing to use one of the family brooms rather than his Firebolt, he was fully confident in his teammates. And sure enough, their opponents had been unable to keep pace with the daring pair of Griffyndor seekers, whose high speed tactics had quickly worn down the beleaguered Bill.

_Speak of the devil_, Harry thought as the eldest Weasley landed next to him, laughing uproariously as he began to pull his windswept hair back into its customary ponytail.

"That was incredible! Gin how come you didn't tell me how good you were?"

"Oh stop it," Ginny replied, blushing, "I'm not _that_ good."

"Don't be modest Gin; you're good and you know it. Just wait until Charlie sees you play, he's gonna go nuts! Between you and Harry we'll have him whipped for sure next time he's home."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "he can be a bit full of it. Every time his team wins he brags about it for days; until eventually the twins get tired of it and prank him till he shuts up."

"Well not this time," Bill said as he draped an arm across Ginny's shoulders. "Come on now lady and gents, Mum probably already has Harry's birthday dinner almost finished, so we should hurry back. Cause if we aren't there on time, she'll murder us all."

"Too right she will," Ron agreed, "she's like a whirlwind in that kitchen. One of those flying pots nearly took my head off; I haven't seen her this worked up since the last time Auntie Muriel visited."

All of them laughed as they began to walk together along the path back to the burrow, quickly joined by Hermione who had been watching from under a nearby tree. Harry watched smiling as Ron and Bill animatedly discussed the game along with a beaming Ginny, and the twins each used their hands to reenact the game.

He couldn't help but notice as they walked how happy and relaxed Ginny appeared to be. Not that he was an expert on her by any means; it was only in the last year that he had really gotten to know her at all.

When she had first come to Hogwarts it was simply a matter of her being younger as well as having a crush on him that prevented them from becoming friends, and after the incident with the Chamber of Secrets the gap between them had only widened further. It was really only in the last year with the D.A. that he had started to get to know her, and honestly he felt like he had learned more about her in their short conversations the past two days than he had in the past four years.

That made the fact that he could see this change in her demeanor even more telling, and he knew it could only be due to the presence of her eldest brother. Bill had appeared that morning in the middle of breakfast and was met with a squeal and a flying hug from Ginny the moment he stepped into the kitchen.

"_Whoa there," Bill laughed, "you're gonna crush me if you keep that up."_

"_Sorry, but it's so good to see you," Ginny replied, laughing as she pulled away, "are you here for the party?"_

"_Sure am, I wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Harry. "Besides, Mum wrote me two days ago to tell me that I'd better get off work and show up or she'd send the twins to trap every inch of my flat with pranks. Pretty sure she invited the whole Order." Harry groaned; he should have known better than to believe Mrs. Weasley when she had assured him it would be a "small gathering of family and friends." _

"_Oh hush up Bill," Mrs. Weasley said without turning as she used her wand to conduct the cooking symphony that was being performed in front of her. "Now, I have a lot do get done before this afternoon, so why don't you take this lot outside; go play quidditch or something. Dinner will be at about six, and don't be late."_

"_Yes ma'am," they all chorused as they polished off their plates and headed out the door._

"_So...," Fred intoned as they all walked towards the nearby broom shed, "obviously Harry your Firebolt is a bit unfair to the rest of us, so do you mind playing on one of the family brooms for now?"_

"_Fine by me," Harry replied, shrugging._

"_Excellent," said George, "now then, teams?" _

"_Naturally, I claim you dear brother," Fred said as he pulled George toward him._

"_And I'm with Harry," Ron countered._

"_Then we get Bill," the twins said in unison, "which leaves you with little Gin-Gin." The two laughed and Ron rolled his eyes as the four brothers entered the tiny shed to retrieve the brooms, loudly discussing the rules. This left Harry alone with a silently fuming Ginny. Though she said nothing, he could hardly miss the burning, furious gleam in her eyes._

"_You know, from what I hear, you're a damn good flyer. Managed to take the snitch in the finals from right under the other seeker's nose, right?" Ginny nodded without replying. After a moment Harry turned to her and offered her his hand. "Care to make them eat their words?" For a long moment she didn't reply, and looked at him as if he had sprouted another head that was reciting Greek love poetry to her. _

_Then finally, she accepted his proffered hand and grinned evilly, "Damn right." The only one to observe their little moment was Hermione, who hung behind them with a small book open in her hands, though it had been some time since she had turned a page. She said nothing, merely returning to her book as the others emerged from the shed holding several brooms and they all made their way down a small path towards the clearing the family used as a makeshift pitch. _

Harry was grinning from ear to ear as he emerged from his contemplation, savoring the memories of the sound thrashing he and Ginny had delivered to her brothers.

"Looks like we're right on time."

Looking around, Harry realized that they had finally arrived back at the Burrow, and saw four very large picnic tables set up on the lawn, all of them sagging under the weight of the massive amount of food they supported. One of them let out a heavy groan as the smiling Mrs. Weasley levitated a truly massive covered dish down onto it before she spotted their group approaching and her face lit up.

"Oh wonderful, you're just in time," she cried happily as she hurried over to Harry, taking him by the shoulders and steering him into a seat at the end of the table. "The food is ready and everyone has arrived. Everyone come sit down, he's here!" The various figures scattered across the lawn began to make their way to the table, with Harry's close friends taking the seats immediately around him and everyone else grabbing whatever seat was available.

Harry was amazed at how many people had shown up. When Bill had said she invited the whole Order, Harry had thought that might be at least a little bit of an exaggeration, but not anymore. Subconsciously he reached up and rubbed his hand over his forehead, feeling the familiar sensation of scar tissue running beneath his fingers.

When Dumbledore had first written to him suggesting that he begin having glamour charms cast to hide the change to his scar, he had been fairly reluctant; he rather liked the idea of strangers not recognizing him anymore with it. But Dumbledore pointed out that the more people who knew about his now missing scar, the more likely it was that the information would get back to Voldemort. And as little as Harry liked strangers recognizing and making a big deal about his scar, he liked even less the idea of Voldemort learning about its removal. But this was the first time anyone other than the Weasleys had seen it, so he felt rather self conscious.

As the last person took their seat it brought his mind firmly back to the present and he looked around, spotting several familiar faces. Far down the table he could see Mad-Eye Moody looking as alert as always, his magical eye spinning in all directions as he watched for trouble. Next to him Harry could see Tonks with her customary bubblegum pink hair chatting amicably with Remus Lupin, who looked to be rather under the weather from what Harry could see. There were dark rings around his eyes and Harry wondered if the full moon was coming up soon.

As if he could sense the thoughts, Lupin looked over from his conversation and caught Harry's eye. The two stared at each other for several long moments, and Harry could sense something was eating at his former professor; he seemed almost haunted. Remus gave him a small nod and turned his attention back to Tonks, and Harry resolved to talk with him before he left.

He saw several others, some of which he recognized and some of which he did not, but all he knew must be members of the Order of the Phoenix. Closest to himself and his friends were the rest of the Weasley family, minus Charlie who was still in Romania, and Percy who was still a prat. And from his nearby seat, Mr. Weasley rose, tapping his wand against the side of his glass to gather everyone's attention.

"Ahem – hello? Hello, everyone? Can I have your attention please?" The conversations quickly died out.

"Well, I'm uh…certainly glad to see you all hear today. As you all know, we recently had a bit of a scare regarding young Harry here, and it put quite the strain on all of us, but especially on our family." Harry lowered his eyes, shame burning through him at the thought of causing the Weasley family any more worry.

"And that," Mr. Weasley continued, "is because while everyone here cares about Harry, to us it is more than that…to us, he is family." Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley in shock. "When we first met him, he was a scrawny, underfed little boy who shocked us with his politeness and manners. And as we came to know him, and watched him grow along with our son Ron, we realized what a special young man he really is. He has saved the lives of two of my children, on more than one occasion, and he has saved mine as well, and this…incident, of almost losing him, forced Molly and I to think long and hard about how much he meant to us." Now he looked straight at Harry, who stared back through moistened eyes.

"Harry, we would never try to replace your parents. They were wonderful people, and you should never forget that. But we wanted you to know that we consider you a member of this family, even without the red hair." Everyone had a good laugh at that one except for Harry, who found himself too overcome with emotion to speak. He looked over to Ron, who stared back at him before nodding solemnly, and he felt a small hand lay on top of his underneath the table. Looking over he could see Ginny next to him smiling softly. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek. "So no matter what your future holds Harry, always remember that we are here for you always." Mr. Weasley paused and smiled, raising his glass. Everyone else raised a bottle or glass of their own. "And with that my friends, I have but one thing left to say: Happy Birthday Harry!"

"Happy Birthday!"

And with that shout, everyone began talking again, digging into the various dishes before them with a gusto that few could match. Only the Weasleys had not moved yet, as they were all watching Harry who was obviously trying not to cry.

"I…I don't know what to say," Harry said, faltering. "Just…just thank you. Thank you all. This means more to me then I can say."

"We know Harry," Ginny said quietly, "we know."

"Come on now, some of us are hungry," Ron said, obviously uncomfortable with the intense emotional situation. "Let's all dig in."

"Let's," Harry agreed, wiping at his cheek as he grabbed a leg of chicken, "this all looks fantastic."

And so the party began in earnest. The food was of course delicious, which surprised no one since Mrs. Weasley's cooking was widely known amongst the Order members to be superb. The conversation was plentiful, with Fred and George up to their usually antics, Hermione grilling Bill about his time as head boy, and Ron and Ginny talking about their earlier game, speculating about the chances of the Gryffindor team this year. The adults, further down the table, tended towards the more serious, with many of them discussing, quietly of course, the latest news of Death Eater activity. Harry did not join in on any of this. Instead he sat quietly, with an attentive ear, and consumed so much food that he seemed to be trying to impersonate Ron.

"So Harry, I had a question," Bill asked from further down the table where he sat next to Fleur Delacour. Ginny had informed him this morning that the "French idiot" as she put it, and Bill were engaged. He had wasted no time in congratulating Bill, and wasn't really sure why Ginny seemed so hostile; he had certainly never had a problem with Fleur.

Harry dropped his fork and reached for his bottle of Butterbeer, motioning for Bill to continue as he did so. "Well I just wanted to ask you something about the day you got back."

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley hissed in warning.

"No, it's alright," Harry said, "I don't mind, ask away."

"Well, Mum tells me that Dumbledore agreed with the theory that you apparated yourself here, am I right?"

"I guess," Harry replied, shrugging, "I'm not really sure what happened myself. But when I described it, he and Hermione both seemed to think that it sounded just like apparition."

"Interesting," Bill said slowly, rubbing his chin slowly. "I'm sorry if I sound suspicious or anything, I don't mean to. The reason that I ask is that I set up the wards on this house myself soon after I moved back to England. There shouldn't have been any way for you to just apparate right up to the house like you did unless you were keyed into the wards. I'll have to inspect them all again tonight and see what I missed."

"Oh Bill, don't worry so much," Mrs. Weasley assured her son, "I'm sure that it's nothing."

"No Mum, it's not nothing," Bill said seriously, "this could be a serious problem. If Harry can just apparate accidentally though my wards, then a Death Eater can too. We can't afford to make any mistakes with this."

"Bill," Mr. Weasley said, speaking slowly and wiping his mouth with his napkin, "check the wards if you feel it best son, but Harry did not break through them or slip through a crack. He didn't have to."

"But the only way that could be was if he was added to the ward recognition." Mr. Weasley nodded.

"And so he was."

"But why," Bill asked, sounding truly confused, "he's not even close to seventeen yet, why add him to the apparation wards?"

"At Dumbledore's request. Apparently before all this happened he planned to collect Harry from his relatives himself and transport him by side-along."

"Of course," Bill said, understanding dawning, "he needed Harry added so that he could get him through the wards. Well that makes me feel a lot better. Even so, I'll still give things a look before Fleur and I head home tonight." Harry noticed Mrs. Weasley's lips pucker at the mention of her oldest son sharing an apartment with his fiancé before they were married, but surprisingly, she held her tongue, likely not wanting to cause a scene at his party. He got the feeling though that this wasn't the first she had heard this news and shuddered at the thought of her initial reaction; he certainly didn't envy Bill that argument.

The merriment continued for nearly an hour, and the sun was just beginning its trek down towards the horizon when the last guest dropped their fork in exhausted contentment. But despite their best efforts, Harry noticed that they had not even come close to finishing all the food Mrs. Weasley had made. As soon as the last guest had finished eating, the Weasley matriarch stood and waved her wand several times, sending all of the dishes and leftover food soaring away into the house, and causing a not insignificant pile of presents to fly out, landing with a thud in front of Harry.

"Time for presents!" she shouted, drawing everyone's attention. Those furthest away stood, and soon everyone was gathered around the table where Harry sat.

"All of these are for me?" Harry asked disbelieving, gaping at the gathered gifts. From the looks of the pile in front of him, every person here had brought him a gift. That thought overwhelmed him for a moment; he was fairly certain he had not seen this many presents in one place since Dudley's last birthday party. Harry felt a slight twinge in his gut at the thought of his cousin, but quickly shoved it aside and plastered a large smile onto his face, looking around at everyone.

"This all looks great, thank you everyone. There's so much, I'm not even sure where to start." Everyone chuckled at that and Mrs. Weasley patted him on the shoulder.

"That's quite alright dear. I know that some of the Order members have places they need to be tonight, so why don't we start with them and we'll open the presents from the family last, shall we?" Harry nodded his assent and Mrs. Weasley reached into the pile, rummaging for the first gift.

"Wotcher Harry!" Tonks said loudly, "mind opening mine first? I'm on duty tonight; supposed to be reporting in at…" She paused, checking the time on a pocket watch she took from inside her robes before grimacing. "In about five minutes actually. I didn't plan to stay this long, but the food was too good, I couldn't pass it up."

Sure thing Tonks," Harry said, laughing. "Can't have you getting in trouble with the boss, can we?" Mrs. Weasley located Tonk's package in the pile and removed it, handing it to Harry. He tore into it, removing the paper in a flash and holding the small but thick book up to read the title.

"Auror Field Manual," he read aloud before looking at her in surprise. "Is this the real thing?"

"Sure is," she replied cheerfully, "they practically make us memorize that thing during training, so it don't do me much good no more. Besides, I figured with all the trouble you get into it might come in handy."

Harry figured that the Weasleys or Dumbledore must have shared at least some details at least of his many 'adventures' at Hogwarts with the Order, because everyone had a good laugh at that one. He thanked Tonks for her very thoughtful gift and she smiled, nodded, and hurried away, desperate not to be late for her shift.

After her came other members of the Order, some Harry knew fairly well, and some he didn't even recognize, so he was glad that Mrs. Weasley announced each name as she pulled their present from the pile. The gifts ranged from books on Defense or Quidditch to large bags of sweets or chocolate, and each Order member wanted to personally congratulate him on his birthday, wish him luck in his upcoming school year, or even to just shake his hand. He accepted each of these with good grace, thanking them for the gift and smiling politely as they left, citing pressing duties. Soon it was only the Weasleys, Remus, and surprisingly, Mad-Eye Moody left.

"Hold on for a moment Harry," Mrs. Weasley said before he could open anything else, "I almost forgot, let me bring the cake out." She waved her wand again and a large chocolate cake flew out of the house and landed, a bit more gently than the presents, on the table next to him. Another wave and a knife sliced pieces for each person, plated it up, and served it to them. Harry took a few bites, but he was still full from dinner and quickly set the plate down.

He picked up Moody's gift next, which was shabbily wrapped in dingy brown paper and small enough to fit easily into the palm of his hand. Honestly it was so small that he was worried about breaking it, so his movements were slow and deliberate as he peeled the wrapping paper away. Inside of it, in the palm of his hand, sat a small wooden trunk that looked very much like a tiny replica of the one that currently sat in Ron's bedroom.

"Thanks Prof- I mean Moody. It's umm….." he stopped, unsure of what else to say. Moody rolled his eyes.

"Don't be thick Potter, I didn't give you a three inch wide trunk." He hobbled up beside Harry, wand in hand. "Put it on the ground," he said, "and back away." Harry did as he was asked, and once he had taken a few steps back, Moody waved his wand in a circle over the tiny trunk, and mumbled something unintelligible. Harry could see the results immediately as the trunk began to grow, the wood warping and stretching before his eyes and within moments, there sat before him a full sized trunk with a small lock fitted to the front.

"Here you go boy," Moody said, handing him a small bronze key, "this trunk is similar to my own. I'm sure you remember that one." And indeed he did; it was hard to forget the trunk with seven rooms inside of it that the real Moody had been stuffed into for nearly a year.

"There are a few differences," Moody continued, "obviously there is only one lock, so that means only one room. It's the size of a small bedroom though, so it has much more storage space than the average trunk. But that lock is spell resistant, it'll take a very strong charm to break it, and the only other thing that can open it is the key I just gave you. The other thing you might find convenient is the shrinking/expending charm that comes built in. I used my own password just a moment ago, but you can set it to be whatever you want. Just read the instructions, everything you need is there." He handed Harry a small leaflet describing the trunk's features and how to use them.

"Wow, this…this is incredible," Harry said, shocked at the clearly expensive gift, "I don't know what to say, thank you."

"Thanks aren't necessary boy," Moody replied gruffly before he leaned down, whispering softly into Harry's ear. "The real present is inside boy, but don't open it up here. It's not the kind of thing Molly would approve of." Harry nodded his agreement, not quite understanding but willing to take Moody at his word. The veteran Auror let out a rare, and horrifying, smile and patted Harry on the shoulder before stepping back.

"How about Remus next," Mrs. Weasley said, offering him a small, neatly wrapped package. Harry accepted it and tore off the paper, revealing a small black box which he opened to reveal a small golden orb.

"A snitch?" he asked, turning to Remus. The werewolf nodded solemnly.

"It was your father's. He used to play with it at school; always letting it go and catching it to try and impress the girls. It was found in their house after…anyway, Dumbledore gave it to me, seeing as we thought I was the only Marauder left that wasn't dead or in prison. And now I think it's time it went to you."

"Professor, I can't take this from you." Lupin shook his head.

"I've told you Harry, call me Remus."

"Sorry…Remus," Harry said, blushing, "old habit."

"Harry, I don't need this snitch to remember your father. He was one of the greatest friends a man could ever have, and I have half a lifetime of memories of him to keep him alive in my heart. And I know for a fact that he would want you to have this." Harry was quietly for nearly a minute before finally he looked Remus in the eye and nodded.

"Thank you," he said seriously. Remus gave him a return nod and Harry looked again at the tiny ball, a slight smile on his face. He picked it up in his hand, and it immediately sprouted wings and started struggling to get away, tugging mightily against his fingers. Releasing it, it darted up over his head and started flitting around in seemingly random patterns. Moments later, Harry's arm shot upward, easily snatching the snitch from the air and pulling it back down to rest in its box. It continued to struggle the whole way down, desperate to free itself, but the moment it touched the velvet lining inside the box, it fell limp, its wings receding back inside of itself. Ron laughed as Harry smiled triumphantly.

"You've still got it mate."

Harry set the box down next to him, still smiling, and accepted the next present, this time from the hands of Fred and George, neither of whom was wearing their customary grins. Rather than a package of any sort, their gift seemed to just be a simple plain envelope, which he opened with great care, wary of it exploding in his face. To his great surprise, it was nothing so spectacular. Inside was a small sheaf of papers, all of which were in English, but none of which made any sense to him.

"We know it doesn't make much sense," Fred said, "we got a major headache trying to decipher those things ourselves. A friend of ours at the Magical Contracts office wrote it up, we wanted it to be all proper and legal like."

"Essentially," continued George, "those papers make you a genuine partner in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; ten percent. It'd be more, but seeing as we **are **doing all of the actually work, we figured it was fair."

"Come on guys, this is your business, you don't have to share it with me."

"Nonsense," both Fred and George echoed at the same time.

"Wait just a minute," Ron said, clearly confused. And from the looks around the table, he wasn't the only one. "Why would you make Harry a partner in your shop? I mean, I know it's his birthday and all, but couldn't you have just given him a bag of your products? This seems a bit much."

"It is because, dear brother," Fred said knowingly, "young Harry here is no ordinary student, he is also a master investor."

"It is due to his wise decision to invest in our little venture," George continued, "that we were able to afford our premises in Diagon Alley. If not for young Harry here, we'd be operating purely an owl-order service at the moment. We don't forget our friends, especially when they've done so much for us."

Harry watched a little guiltily as the jaws around him dropped in surprise. He had been hoping that little bit of information wouldn't come out anytime soon…if ever. Knowing Mrs. Weasley, he had thought she wouldn't take this information well, and form the look on her face, his suspicions had not been wrong.

"Well, thanks a lot guys. Maybe we should move along now?" Fred and George, who could see the look on their mother's face, quickly agreed and Harry reached for the nearest gift, which after a moment he saw was Ginny's.

He tore into the small oddly shaped package, quickly revealing a very tiny, moving replica of a dragon; a Hungarian Horntail to be precise. Ginny smiled, but he swore he could see a slight blush to her cheeks as she spoke.

"I saw it in a little shop in Hogsmeade last spring; thought it would go well with your other one, from the Tri-Wizard Tournament." She shrugged. "I know it's not much, but-"

"It's perfect," he said, interrupting her, "thank you." She smiled even wider and looked down at her feet, definitely blushing this time.

Bill went next, saying that his gift was from Fleur as well. He handed Harry a large book, entitled _Runes, Wards, and How to Use Them: A Beginner's Guide._

"I got this book for an extra credit project in Ancient Runes during seventh year. Once I started reading, I just couldn't put it down. It's what got me interested in being a Curse Breaker in the first place. Now, you may not end up wanting to be a Curse Breaker, but with all the things you lot get up to, I thought it might at least be helpful if not terribly interesting to you."

"Yeah, this is great," Harry assured him, smiling, "I've actually been a bit curious about this subject for a while now, so this will probably come in really handy. Thanks a lot."

Ron and Hermione came next, and since they couldn't decide who got to go first, they both just went at the same time. Ron's gift was a book surprisingly, recently written by one of the top Quidditch coaches in the professional scene whose keen insights and training methods, according to Ron, would give the Gryffindor team a clear advantage in the coming season. Harry didn't have the heart to point out that if this book was as big as Ron made it out to be, then it was likely that every team in the school would have a copy, therefore negating any advantage they might gain by reading it.

What was even more surprising was that Hermione's gift was not a book. Instead she had gotten him a new pair of seeker gloves which, according to the advert she had read, were the latest must have item for all professional seekers. Supposedly they provided much more hand flexibility for grabbing the snitch, while at the same time increasing the effectiveness of the gripping material on the palms, designed to help one hold the snitch once it had been grabbed.

At this point there was only one gift left on the table, a small unwrapped black box. He picked it up and removed the top half, gasping in surprise at what lay beneath. Inside was a long black clock hand, with the tip of it containing a small moving picture himself. He looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were holding each other and smiling at him.

"I told you earlier Harry," Mr. Weasley said softly, "we consider you family. And family goes on the clock, no exceptions. Otherwise Molly will worry sick about what you're up to."

Harry smiled back at them, but couldn't speak, once again overwhelmed. He stood and walked over to the two of them, holding out his hand to shake Mr. Weasley's. The old man took it, but Mrs. Weasley grabbed a hold of him and pulled crushing him in a monstrous hug as she began to cry. It took several moments for Mr. Weasley to pull her off of him, shaking his head all the while.

"Molly, you're going to crush the poor boy," he said as he steered the emotional Mrs. Weasley towards the house. "Come now, let's get you a spot of tea and let the kids enjoy themselves for a while."

As soon as their mother was inside the house, Fred and George hooted loudly, waving their wands. Moments later fireworks shot forth from the nearby trees, exploding in the afternoon sky. Everyone stared up, enjoying the show except for Lupin, who tapped Harry politely on the shoulder and nodded his head towards the house, indicating that Harry should follow him. He stood, and the two of them moved off, leaving the others behind.

Harry followed Lupin to the Burow and made to go inside but an outstretched arm stopped him.

"Over here," Lupin said simply, nodding towards the side of the house. Harry followed him to a blank section of wall, curious as to what they were doing. Suddenly Lupin's wand appeared in his hand and he smiled wolfishly, "Up you get." Before Harry could respond, he felt himself floating upwards, and he realized that Lupin was levitating him off the ground.

He quickly suppressed his panic, knowing that Lupin would not be out to hurt him. Soon enough he found himself being deposited on the small bit of roof that extended out underneath a second floor window, where Lupin quickly joined him.

"So, what was all that about?" he asked, confused.

"Oh come one, you should have seen your face!" Remus laughed. "Besides, going through the house would have meant going through Molly. Do you want to tell her you're about to go sit on a roof?" That thought made Harry shudder.

"But why are we sitting on the roof anyway?" That question made Lupin stop laughing and sit up straight, a serious look on his face once again.

"This is where we always sat..." he said quietly, eyes gazing off into the distance. "Did Sirius ever tell you about the summers we spent with your dad?" Harry shook his head. "Since I was bitten as a kid…well, let's just say that I didn't have many friends growing up. I had never been to a friend's house before I went to Hogwarts, but after our first year your dad had invited all of us Marauders to visit before we even got on the train home. Even after he told them about my…condition, your grandparents let me come over to play with everyone else, as long as it wasn't the full moon."

Harry didn't think he had ever heard the werewolf talk like this before. His voice seemed…distant, wistful. As if he were seeing the past come to life before him.

"It was like that every summer pretty much. We would all come over to visit constantly, sometimes for days at a time. And whenever we were there overnight, we always snuck out of the window and sat on the roof right outside, looking up at the stars, dreaming about the future, talking about girls…" He looked over at Harry and smiled slyly. "It was during one of those talks on the roof that your dad first admitted to us that he thought your mum was hot." Harry blushed bright red and looked away; he did not want to hear anything like _that_ about his mother. Lupin slapped his knees and barked out a laugh.

"Mercy did we tease him about that. Course at the time we all thought she'd never even look at him. Shows what we know." He trailed off, and Harry sat quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"The point of all this," he said finally, "is that your dad was one of the best friends I ever had; one of two that I would give my own life to bring back." Harry wanted to interrupt, to tell him that he shouldn't say that, but Lupin pressed on, obviously needing to get something off of his chest.

"And I feel like I've failed them; in fact I know I have. They would have wanted me to look after you, and I've done a piss poor job so far. When you disappeared, I collapsed. Only weeks since Sirius died, and then we thought you were dead too…I had no one left, and I just couldn't handle it. It took some convincing from Tonks before I was even able to climb out of the hole I dug myself, and then Dumbledore tells us that you're safe and back at the Burow...as relieved as I was, I also knew that I couldn't continue like I had before." He looked Harry straight in the eye and he could see that the werewolf was being deadly serious.

"I'm not your dad Harry, and I'm not Sirius, and I'm not going to try to be. But they would want me to do my best to look out for you, so from now on that's exactly what I'm going to do." They sat in silence together for a while, watching as the softening sun slowly continued to sink down into the horizon. Harry closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the warm glow streaming across his face.

"I appreciate that Remus," he said finally, "but you know you don't have to."

"Maybe not cub, but I'm going to anyway. I know you have the Weasleys who already think of you as family, you don't need another parent figure in your life. But I think you could use a friend."

Harry smiled and opened his eyes. "I can always use one of those."

Lupin reached into his coat pocket and pulled free a large brown bottle. "Firewhiskey," he explained while waving his wand to conjure a pair of glasses. Harry raised an eyebrow as the werewolf poured two glasses then handed one to him.

"I'm underage you know." Remus laughed aloud.

"That never stopped your father," he said, still chuckling, "he had his first drink after our fourth year; stole the bottle from his dad's liquor cabinet and the four of us downed the whole thing. Became kind of a ritual with us every summer. I don't think he would begrudge me sharing a drink with his son." He lifted his glass. "To friends!"

"To family," Harry replied, raising his own.

They clinked their glasses together and sipped, Harry nearly choking at the burning trail he felt running from his mouth down to his stomach. Remus barely managed to contain a snort of laughter, but didn't say anything. They sat like that together until dark, refilling when necessary and saying little. Mostly they watched the sun set behind the horizon, and remembered those they had both lost.


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter

_A/N: Hey there folks. Just to let you know, my previous comments about not having much time to write still stand. The only reason this is ready so fast is because the power went out the other day at work, and I had three or four hours with nothing to do but sit there and write. So hooray for updates, right? I don't know how many people actually are reading this, but those of you that are, please feel free to leave comments In the form of a review. Also, if you have questions about the story, please post them as well, or feel free to PM me. If there is something that is confusing or unclear, it would really help me to know. I won't promise an answer to any and all questions, because it may be something that will be explained further down the line, but I will answer what I can. Enjoy your week folks!_

Harry and Ron sat silently before the empty hearth in the living room of the Burrow, each of them staring intently at the half empty chessboard that sat on a table between them. Ron's brow was furrowed and his mouth was set in a deep frown as he studied the battlefield intently, analyzing each possible move and weighing them against one another. Finally his face broke into a grin and he spoke, "Queen to E-5."

Both players watched as Ron's queen stalked across the board towards Harry's terrified pawn, her sword making short work of him as she quickly took his place.

"Checkmate," Ron said, his tone triumphant. Harry slumped back into his armchair, feeling drained.

"I don't know why I still bother playing with you anymore," he said, though his sad tone was somewhat undermined by his wide smile. "I'm never going beat you."

"Oh come on Harry, it's not about winning and losing, it's about having fun."

"Easy to say when you always win," Harry muttered darkly, though his smile never wavered. Ron laughed.

"To be honest with you mate, you had me against the ropes there. I wasn't sure how I was going to pull it off until you left your bishop out of position a few moves ago. If it wasn't for that, you probably would have taken me."

"Really," Harry asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding, "damn right. Now come on, set 'em up; I'm going to have to crush you into the ground. No offense, but I can't have you thinking you can actually beat me, it'll ruin my image." They both had a laugh at that one as they commanded the pieces to reset for another game. Clearly some of the dead pieces were not looking forward to being sent forward into possible destruction once more, because they took their time even getting up, mumbling all the while and shooting the two boys dirty looks. Both leaned back in their chairs, sipping at their butterbeers in companionable silence.

"Can I ask you something Harry?" Ron finally asked, breaking the quiet. Harry nodded his permission and Ron sucked in a breath before plowing ahead. "What did you see? The other night, in your dream I mean."

Harry took another sip of butterbeer to buy himself time, thinking about how he should answer. Dumbledore had not told him to keep the contents of the dream a secret, but he had still been reluctant to volunteer to share it with anyone else. It was so horrifying that he dreaded the idea of reliving it in his head yet again, and he liked even less the idea of having his friends bear that burden with him. But at the same time, he felt like they had a right to know; Ron perhaps more so than any of them since he had been the one subjected to hearing Harry's screams.

"I was seeing something," Harry began slowly, "a vision, a memory, or whatever you want to call it. About _him_…and about the Durselys." Ron stayed silent, sensing that this was a difficult subject for Harry to talk about. "He came to their house, apparently soon after I had left. He was really, really angry that they didn't capture me." As he played through the scene in his head, he got the feeling that he was missing something in what the Death Eaters were saying, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He pushed the feeling to the back of his mind and continued.

"They blew up the house and took the Durselys with them, back to the Malfoy's place. He...he tortured them for information. About me, about where I was and how I had escaped. He killed my uncle…horribly. And I know he had more of the same planned for my aunt and Dudley, but the vision stopped and I woke up." Ron sat silent and still as stone, his only movement a slow blinking as he stared rigidly into the chessboard, watching as a meandering knight knocked down a bishop, receiving a cry of outrage and a very rude gesture in response.

This sparked another wave of tiny cries, and the pieces were on the verge of a riot when Ron finally spoke again, looking up into Harry's eyes. "Look, Harry I…" He trailed off but Harry said nothing, knowing how difficult it could be for Ron to talk about serious things and wanting to give his friend a chance to get whatever this was off of his chest. "Look I'm not going to make some crazy, emotional speech like Dad," he said finally, shaking his head, "so you can forget that. But I just wanted to say that when you went missing…I thought you were a gonner for sure mate. And that made me do a lot of thinking about what it would be like with you gone."

He ran a hand through his messy red hair, looking as serious as Harry had ever seen him. "I said to myself, 'Wow Ron, you're never going to talk to Harry again'. And that hurt," he said, sounding somewhat shocked, "like physically hurt, somewhere down in this area." He waved his hand in a circle, indicating his stomach region. "And I thought about all those times that I lost my temper with you about something, or got jealous of you and stormed off and ruined things for a while. But no matter how bad things got back then, I always knew you know, deep down, that we'd patch things up; things'd be back to normal. This time was different, and when I thought back on all those things that just don't seem that important anymore, I realized what a total prat I was for wasting all that time with my friend. I don't want to waste anymore time mate."

"Not saying I won't lose my temper," Ron was quick to assure him, "but I'm not gonna walk away again Harry. I'm with you till the end, and I know Hermione feels the same way." He held out his hand with a smile and Harry took it, a return smile plastered on his face. But inside he felt a cold dagger sliding into his gut. He knew how hard it was for his friend to talk about any kind of feelings, much less his own, and the fact that he wanted to stay with Harry through everything that was coming meant a lot, but he knew it wouldn't last, not once Ron knew.

So far it had been a simple matter to convince himself that there was no need to talk about the prophecy. Everyone was so excited to have him back that he couldn't bring himself to ruin their festive mood with his news. But Harry knew that eventually he would have to reveal the contents of the prophecy, to Ron and Hermione if no one else. And once it was discovered that his destiny had set him on a collision course with Voldemort, that he must either kill or be killed, their opinions would change very quickly.

And even if they didn't, even if his friendships ran so deep that they would be willing to risk their lives with him, he knew he couldn't allow it. He was the one who was tied to this, not them. They had a choice; a chance to live normal lives untouched by fate or Voldemort, and they deserved to live them. This was the only family he had left, and he would not allow them to be taken down with him.

Ron had long since let go of his hand and set about bringing order to the warring chess pieces, having to physically pick up and pull apart the two dueling kings to get them to stop fighting. It took a lot of swearing and several poked fingers, but the defeat of their leaders subdued the others and they grudgingly resumed their normal places.

Ron smiled at him, sucking at his wounded fingers and shaking them to try to take the sting away. "Ready?"

Before Harry could reply their came the sound of screeching from the kitchen.

"Let's go see," Harry said, sounding a little apprehensive. Ron groaned, but rose obediently from his chair and followed Harry out of the room.

The moment they entered they were greeted by enormous hugs from Mrs. Weasley, who seemed ready to burst with excitement.

"Oh boys, they're here, they're here! Oh this is such an exciting day; I'll have to floo your father right away Ron." She finally released them and took two envelopes from the nearby table, handing one to each boy. "Well," she encouraged them, "go on."

They glanced at one another, both sporting an identical nervous look before they finally set themselves and tore into the Ministry seal holding the envelope shut. Harry pulled the sheet of parchment out and quickly opened it. He could feel sweat building on the back of his neck as he skimmed through the list of what the pass and fail grades were, until finally he reached what he had been waiting to see.

**Harry James Potter has achieved:**

**Astronomy A**

**Care of Magical Creatures E**

**Charms E**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts O**

**Divination P**

**Herbology E**

**History of Magic D**

**Potions E**

**Transfiguration E**

He read through the lines a few times, and felt his breathing ease and his gut unclench with each reading. He had passed! Well, maybe not everything. Failing History of Magic had been a foregone conclusion seeing as he had left the hall in the middle of the exam, and he never had a chance of passing Divination, but he had passed everything else!

He turned to Ron, eager to share the good news, but his smile faded as soon as he saw the look on his friend's face. Ron was staring at the letter he clutched in both hands, his eyes wide and his face scrunched up in a look of compete disbelief. Harry felt all the happiness he had felt mere moments earlier draining away from him. He reached out a hand, placing it gently on his friend's shoulder.

"Look, Ron…"

"I passed," Ron interrupted, his voice full of shock and awe. "I– I can't believe it, I passed." He held out the letter for his mother and she took it, smiling as she scanned its contents.

"Of course you passed Ron; I knew you would. Seven OWLs, I'm so proud of you. Just wait until I tell your father!" Ron beamed and turned to Harry.

"Only failed Divination and History of Magic. What about you mate?"

"Same."

"Well no great loss then," Ron laughed, "honestly I can't believe I'm finally going to be rid of Binns. This might just be the best day of my life." He wiped a fake tear from his cheek and Harry joined him in laughter, and even his mother cracked a slight smile.

"What about Hermione's?" Ron asked, eyeing the unopened envelope that sat on the kitchen table.

"Go ahead," his mother replied, waving her hand at them, "I think she's still upstairs with Ginny. I'll just floo your father and let him know the good news."

Ron had snatched the waiting envelope before she had even finished speaking and dashed for the staircase, Harry right behind him. There was no way he was going to miss this moment.

The two boys quickly reached the landing outside Ginny's room and Ron pushed open the closed door and walked inside, still smiling. He lost that smile a moment later, when he was met with a flying pillow to the face.

"Ow!" he shouted, flinching out of reflex, "watcha do that for?"

"Enter my room without knocking again dear brother and it'll be my History of Magic book instead."

Harry barely suppressed a chuckle as Ron sputtered, trying to come up with a response. He could see Ginny sitting cross legged on her bed, her hair tied back and a book in her hand. Hermione sat at the small desk in front of the open window, a quill in one hand while the other covered her mouth as she giggled at Ron.

"Well…that's just completely…you are just…" Ron was nearly speechless as he tried to find a way to reply to his younger sister until finally he closed his gaping jaw and smirked before turning away. "Well then, I guess Hermione has no interest in seeing this letter that juts came for her. I'll just take it downstairs…" He didn't even finish his sentence before Hermione leapt out of her chair, squealing as she charged towards Ron, reaching for the letter that he now held in his outstretched arm.

"Ronald Weasley you give me that letter this instant!" she shouted, snatching it from his fingers as soon as she was within reach and tearing into it with a ferocious vigor. She removed the contents, opening and examining them, her eyes flying from side to side as she read at lightning speed. Finally she looked up at the three of them, all waiting expectantly, but did not speak, merely staring blankly.

"Well," Ron said impatiently, "how'd you do?"

"Oh, I did alright I suppose," Hermione answered vaguely.

Ron shot Harry a look of disbelief before stepping forward and taking the letter from her unresisting hands, quickly scanning the contents before snorting with laughter.

"Oh dear me, you poor thing, no wonder you're so upset. Ten Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts. This is just awful this is."

"Come on Hermione, that's excellent, why are you so upset?" Harry asked. She seemed to come out of her daze a little and shook her head.

"I'm not upset, really. I don't know what's come over me, just shock I suppose." She smiled brightly at them now, looking much more like herself. "So, how did you two do?"

"Great," Ron answered, grinning widely, "seven each."

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit surprised, "that's wonderful."

"What, is that so surprising?" Ron asked crossly, a frown overtaking his face. "Shocked that I might actually do good for a change?"

"No Ron, that's not what I meant at all," she replied quickly, "you don't have to get so defensive."

"Well why shouldn't I?" Ron asked bitterly. "Since apparently I'm such a terrible wizard that you're shocked I can even pass my OWLs."

"I never said that!" she shrieked in reply. "Stop putting words into my mouth."

During this entire exchange, Harry had been very slowly backing towards the door, not wanting to attract any attention. From the corner of his eye he could see Ginny had somehow slipped from her bed and along the wall, obviously having had the same idea. He held one finger up to his lips and she nodded in reply, carefully stepping over a floorboard that she knew to be squeaky before continuing towards him. As soon as she reached him they both slipped silently though the open doorway and carefully pushed the door closed behind them, muffling the now shouting voices within. Both pressed their backs against the door and let out a small sigh of relief before glancing at each other, each sporting an identical grin.

"One more minute in there and I would have strangled the both of them," Ginny said, struggling to contain her laughter.

"You're telling me. I'm there for nearly every fight they have, it's a bloody nightmare. What's worse is they try to drag me into it, want me to pick sides."

"You think we should just tell them that they like each other and get it over with? At least then they might snog instead of argue." Harry's eyes widened in surprise at this.

"You think so?"

"What, that they like each other?" Ginny asked. Harry nodded and she rolled her eyes at him before turning her head and looking forward. "Honestly Harry, sometimes you can be so thick. You'd have to be blind not to see something there. Trust me, if one of them ever grows a pair long enough to tell the other how they feel, those two will be going at it like horny dogs."

Harry shuddered at the mental image of his two best friends snogging in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't that he had any interest in Hermione himself, she was more like a sister than anything, and if being together would make them happy than he had no objections. What he was worried about was what the two of them dating would mean to the three of them.

For more than five years they had been with him through thick and thin, and the three of them were together practically every minute of the day. If Ron and Hermione started dating then they would obviously want to start spending more time alone, and where would that leave Harry? Alone in the corner, doing homework and trying not to let everyone see how lonely he was. Ginny's hand touching him lightly on the arm shook him out of those morbid thoughts and he saw she was looking at him again, understanding on her face.

"Hey, don't worry about it. With those two it could be years before anything happens."

"Yeah," he said, a fake smile in place, "you're probably right." She looked him in the eye, obviously not buying it.

"Well how about this then, if those two end up dating and start wandering off to find broom closets together, then you can just hang out with me, alright? I may not be as obsessed with studying as Hermione, or as obsessed with quidditch as Ron, but I'll do my best to fill their shoes." There was nothing fake about his smile now as the two of them laughed softly. "Now come on," Ginny said pushing off of the wall and starting down the stairs, "get off your arse Potter and let's go for a fly."

Harry was grinning from ear to ear as he knifed through the air on his Firebolt, the wind tugging at his ever messy black hair. Just ahead of him he could still see Ginny, her fiery hair flashing in the afternoon sun as the two of them arced around the roof of the Burrow and set a slow, lazy course for the nearby tree line. Kicking his broom forward a small bit, he pulled up alongside her and caught her gaze, her smile mimicking his own.

"You know," he said, not quite shouting but louder than normal to be heard over the wind, "as much as I like quidditch, I think I love this the most."

"What, flying for fun?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Every time I go up I feel…I don't know, powerful; in control. It's always been like that, since my first flying lesson when Malfoy stole something of Nevilles and I had to chase him to get it back. I was nervous at first because I had never touched a broom in my life, but the moment my feet left the ground, a part of me felt at home. Even if I graduate from Hogwarts and never get to play a real game of quidditch again, I'll be happy just as long as I can keep flying."

"I'm the same way," Ginny said, pulling her broom just a bit closer so that he could hear her better, "but not for the same reason. For me it's about Tom. People like Ron, they fly because that's how you play quidditch. They'd be just as happy if the game were played on the ground like muggle foosball."

"That's football," Harry laughed.

"Whatever," Ginny said, waving her hand dismissively, "the point is that it's not about the flying for them, it's about the game. But for you…for me, it's the flying. From the moment our feet leave the ground, we're in total control. We fly hundreds of feet in the air with nothing between us and death but our own skill and a broom. If we lose control, it's on no one but us; our fate is in our own hands. After my first year…I needed that." She closed her eyes and looked away, and Harry knew she was trying to hide the welling tears.

"I snuck out so many times that summer before and after we went to Egypt, going for long flights in the middle of the night. I needed to take back the control he took from me, and the only place where I could really feel that was up in the air. Before that I liked flying, but now I love it." She looked over at him and laughed. "We just can't seem to stop with the emotional chats, can we?"

He grinned back at her, grateful that she had broken the somber mood. "Yeah, I should be careful. You're turning me into a girl." Her mouth melted into a thin line and Harry felt his stomach flip at the blazing look he saw in her eyes.

"You'll regret that Potter. See if you can keep up." And without further warning she pushed her broom into a dive, headed straight towards the grassy floor below. Harry's eyes widened but he followed suit, determined to catch her. His Firebolt had the superior speed by far, but her surprise maneuver had put her far out ahead of him. He watched helplessly as she grew closer and closer to that flat green canvas, his Firebolt's superior speed unable to close the gap between them in time. His fingers tightened their vice like grip on the broom handle, knuckles white from the pressure and he willed himself to move faster, but he already knew that he would never reach her in time.

Only a handful of moments before she would have made a spectacular crater in the grassy field, Ginny pulled with all her might on the handle of her broom, arcing her into an impossibly tight turn. The tips of her toes just barely grazed the grass the instant she became fully horizontal and she shot away, no more than a flying red blur.

Harry yanked on his own broom, nosing up ever so slightly until he was facing the trees, his feet sitting a few feet above the earth now flying by beneath him. He hunched over further, trying to remain as flat as possible while he coaxed forth every ounce of speed the Firebolt had. His broom's superior speed allowed him to begin closing the gap between them, but she still had a fairly substantial lead.

Both, however, could see the wall of trees that loomed ahead of them, and were forced to begin slowing down before entering or risk slamming into a branch that they wouldn't have time to avoid. Harry saw Ginny turn and look over her shoulder, throwing him a wink before turning back ahead and disappearing into the thick forest. Harry simply snorted and followed her.

Within moments he wondered if he was completely insane as branches large and small began popping up in front of him, coming so fast that they almost seemed to appear from nowhere. He shoved that thought to the back of his mind and gave himself over fully to his instincts, twisting and turning as his mind directed. Occasionally he would catch glimpses of Ginny through the flashing foliage, and he knew that he was gaining on her. The only question was whether it would be enough to overtake her before they exited the forest, which he knew, subconsciously, was the finish line for their little race.

Faster and faster the branches seemed to come, and there were dozens of near misses, but finally, after what seemed like hours, he saw light up ahead, and the foliage thinned considerably. A quick glance to his left told him that he and Ginny were neck and neck, and he pushed his broom as hard as he could, desperate to pull ahead.

Seconds later both teens exploded from the trees like cannonballs, each breaking hard and shouting wildly.

"I win!"

"Like hell you do, I was a full foot ahead of you."

"Oh please, not even close."

Both stared at each other hard for several long, tense moments, neither willing to back down. Finally a crack appeared in Ginny's smile and Harry snorted, and within a minute both were nearly falling off their broom in tears of laughter.

"Merlin Harry," Ginny said, wiping a small drop from her cheek as she spoke, "I haven't had that much fun in ages."

"Me neither," Harry agreed, clutching his side, "that was amazing. I knew you were good on a broom, but…just wow."

"You aren't so bad yourself Mr. Potter. Come on, let's start heading back, food'll be ready soon."

Harry knew she was right, he could see the sun beginning to droop and the light beginning to glow orange, but it was still with reluctance that he turned his broom towards the Burrow and the two of them started back together. He really couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun and didn't want it to end.

"So," he asked as they flew, "where'd you learn to pull off a dive like that. It took me forever to perfect."

"From you," she answered, causing Harry to look shocked. "Oh come on, I remembered you using that Wronski Feint during the Triwizard Tournament and it got me thinking that it would be a good move to have in my pocket if I was going to play for Gryffindor. So I worked on it. Only took me about two weeks to get it right. Cost me quite a few bumps and bruises though."

"Well, good for you, but you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," she giggled as the two of them touched down outside the Burrow.

Both of them locked their brooms away in the shed and headed towards the house, neither speaking until Ginny reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back before he could open the door.

"Look, Harry, I just wanted to say thanks for listening. I know I can prattle on sometimes, but it's been really great having a friend that I can talk about this kind of stuff with. I mean Luna's great and all, but it's kind of hard to have a conversation about Tom Riddle with her, you know?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding, "I know exactly what you mean. I still find it hard to talk about some things with Ron and Hermione, and we've been friends for what seems like forever. And you don't have to thank me, I like talking to you. There aren't many people that I can talk about Voldemort with and have them actually understand what it's like to fight him; it's kind of nice."

He sighed and shook his head. "Besides, without you to talk to I'd probably be going spare right now. Everything just feels so different, but still the same, you know?"

Ginny shook her head, looking confused and Harry scratched his own, trying to figure out how best to explain it.

"Well I mean on the one hand everything is completely different. Let's face it Ginny, I disappeared for a few days and came back with new eyes and no memory, and then that very night a cursed scar linking me to an evil dark lord is mysteriously removed. That's not exactly normal, even by my standards. And there's absolutely nothing I can do, I have no idea what might have happened to me, and I may never know. But then at the same time, it all feels like it did before, being here with you all. Ever since my party last week Hermione has started dropping hints that she wants me to open up to her about Sirius again, as if nothing has happened."

He ran a frustrated hand through his messy hair. "Honestly I hadn't thought about Sirius too much since I got back and that makes me feel guilty enough. Hermione bugging me about it just feels like rubbing it in my face. I mean I still miss him, but it doesn't feel the same as before."

"Maybe it has something to do with your disappearance," Ginny offered, shrugging. "You know, maybe something happened that helped you deal with Sirius dying, and now you just don't remember what it was."

"Maybe," Harry said, "I just don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy."

"You aren't going crazy, you're just confused, and you have every right to be. But you'll figure it all out in the end Harry. And we're going to be there with you the whole way."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, unable to meet her gaze.

"You listen to me Harry James Potter," Ginny said forcefully, grabbing his face with both her hands. "You can just stop that kind of crap right now. We are your friends and we aren't going anywhere. Get that through your thick skull."

"Well maybe you don't know everything," he replied darkly.

"What don't we know?" Harry stood mutely. "Fine then, you don't have to tell me right now, or even at all. If you ever need to talk to me, you know I'm always here." She loosened her hands on his face now, cupping it gently instead. "I can't tell you what anyone else will do, it's not my place to speak for them. But I can tell you this: there is nothing in this world that you could possibly tell me that would make me abandon you Harry. You are my friend, and I'll be there for you as long as you need me." She released his face and pulled him into a tight hug.

He didn't move for several long moments, but finally he melted into her arms, hugging her back tightly.

"Thanks," he whispered softly, his lips very close to her ear. He felt her shudder in his arms and hugged her tighter, worried that she might have caught a chill on her broom. She looked up into his face, her bright brown eyes staring into his own.

"You're welcome," she whispered back.

They stood like that for over a minute, arms still wrapped around one another, staring into each other's eyes. Harry's heart was starting to beat faster now as he realized the situation he was in. _What am I doing, this is Ron's sister. Their family has practically adopted me, I can't be having these feelings about her! Oh, but she smells so good…_

"Harry," she whispered again, even softer this time. So soft that he had to lean in, to hear her better of course, and their faces were closer now…so close…

"Girls, can you come down for a moment and help me get dinner on the table? Boys, wash up and get down here as well."

Mrs. Weasley's shouts shattered the tension in the air like stained glass and the both of them broke apart instantly, looking around awkwardly at the walls, the sky, anything but each other.

"I should, you know…go. Inside. Help Mum." Harry nodded, still not looking at her and she darted inside, closing the door behind her. He leaned against the door she had just closed, forehead pressing into the rough wood as he tried to get his breathing under control. _What is wrong with me? I can't believe how close I came to…I've got to just put this out of my mind and everything will go back to normal. _But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about the way her hair smelled, the feel of her soft hands on his face, the way her lips parted slightly as they came closer and closer to –

_Enough,_ he admonished himself, reaching for the doorknob, _just shut up._ And with that he slipped inside, and closed the door behind him.


	11. Chapter 10

_A/N – Hell everyone, I'm sure any of you who were following this thought it had been abandoned. Well no it wasn't, but it was very close, and not by my choice. This has been an extremely chaotic year for me, and a series of family dramas has kept me from having any time at all for fun pursuits, and that includes writing. I have already started writing again though, and in fact I actually finished this chapter and the next at the same time, but due to feedback from my younger brother (who is also an avid fanfiction reader) I have decided to do some re-writes on that one so it will likely be several days before that is complete. I will do my very best to not have another hiatus like the last one, but I can make no guarantees as my family does come first. As always, please enjoy._

"Hurry up everyone and get on board, the train will be leaving any minute," shouted a frazzled Mrs. Weasley as she hurried her brood across Platform Nine and Three Quarters towards the waiting Hogwarts Express. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all came hurrying behind her, each pushing an overloaded cart filled with belongings. Harry trailed in the rear, followed by a team of three Aurors, but his cart only held the small new trunk he had received from Moody. While packing up his belongings, he had been pleasantly surprised to find that everything he owned could now be fit into this single trunk, and ironically that even included his old trunk.

Their group was one of the last to arrive at the platform, which for once had been a conscious decision rather than habitual lateness. For the last hour Aurors had been scouring the station for any sign of magical tampering, and Mad-Eye, who had been driving them, had circled King's Cross at least a dozen times before he had finally received the all clear and pulled in to park. He had then led their small group, accompanied by a small team of Aurors, through the station and onto the platform, which was almost empty at this point except for Auror personnel.

Mrs. Weasley's cry had them all hurrying quickly towards the rear of the train, but Harry slowed momentarily to wave when he spotted Tonks patrolling further down the platform. He quickly came to regret that decision as he felt a hard smack to the back of his head.

"Ow," he started, reaching a hand to rub the spot where he was hit.

"Keep moving boy," Moody growled, prodding him forward to keep pace with the others, "take this as lesson number one. Don't ever get caught standing still out in the open. We won't be safe until we reach the train; we'll have cover there."

"Sorry," Harry said, chastised.

"Don't be sorry, learn."

They soon reached the last car and each of them began stuffing their luggage into the storage compartment near the bottom, except for Harry, who simply tapped his trunk with his wand and whispered "Prongs," causing the trunk to immediately begin shrinking down to a more manageable size. Once it was small enough, he slipped it easily into his pocket and stepped forward to help a struggling Ginny ease her own trunk into the tightly packed space.

"Thanks," she said, tucking a loose strand of fiery red hair behind her ear as Harry took the heavy trunk from her.

"You're welcome," he replied, smiling awkwardly. They stared at each other for several long moments, with Harry squirming uncomfortably under her intense gaze. He wasn't sure where things stood between them at the moment, and that more than anything worried him. In the two weeks since the incident, she had not said or done anything to suggest that anything was out of place between the two of them. It seemed that she was content to just go on as if it had never happened, and a large part of Harry felt nothing but relief at that idea. But there was another part, a part that he tried his hardest to ignore, that just couldn't forget the feeling he had felt in the pit of his stomach when he had realized just how close he and Ginny were…and the smell of her hair, so strong even after they had flown so hard all afternoon.

He shook his head roughly, clearing his head of such thoughts, just as he felt a none too gentle prod to his back.

"Onboard, the lot of you," Moody growled, his back to them as he kept his human eye busy sweeping the platform, and his magical eye sweeping literally everywhere. They all followed his instructions, hurrying forward through the door to the train car.

"Be careful dears," Mrs. Weasley called after them as they disappeared one by one, "and don't forget to write!"

Moody hobbled away from the distraught Molly and ambled his way towards the small knot of Aurors standing outside the lead car. All of them were younger witches and wizards, some only a few months past receiving their promotion from trainee status, with the most senior of them being Tonks, who herself had only passed her test less than two years ago. As a group they saluted him at his approach.

"At ease," he barked at them, annoyed. When the Ministry had finally acknowledged Voldemort's resurgence soon after the battle in the Department of Mysteries, the then head of the Auror office and now Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had requested that he officially return to the Auror ranks. He had, not very politely, declined. He had watched the Ministry make an arse of itself for the past year, and he more than most wizards understood that the gears of bureaucracy turned slowly, often too slowly to do anyone a damn bit of good. It would take months for their Auror force to be ready to face Voldemort's followers, much less the Dark Lord himself. He could do far more good continuing his work with the Order of the Pheonix, however…distasteful…he might find some of Dumbledore's requests.

But despite his refusal to take his rank back up, all of the younger Aurors still insisted on saluting him, at least as long as their superiors weren't around. Apparently his legend had only grown in his time away from the force, and now that his paranoia had proven to be well founded rather than the ravings of insanity, he had become some kind of idol; they all looked up to him, wanted to emulate him. He found it irritating as hell.

"Platform secure sir," Tonks reported briskly, dropping the salute and placing her hand on her wand holster. "Final sweep in progress, we should be ready to move out in three minutes."

"Stop calling me sir, damn it. Now get everyone on board, we're moving out now."

"But sir," Tonks said, looking startled, "we aren't scheduled–"

"Rule one hundred and thirty seven: never stick to a schedule if you know the enemy has access to it. We move now."

Tonks nodded sharply, "Yes sir. Alright," she shouted, "everyone on board, now!" The small team hurried through the doorway, taking their place in the lead car, and Tonks followed right behind them. Moody limped as quickly as he could, reaching the open door just as the whistle blew and the scarlet steam engine began to pull away from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Moody stood in the threshold, holding tightly to the nearby hand rail as he watched the platform slowly slide away.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Well," Harry said as the four of them boarded the train, "shall we find a compartment then?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry Harry," Hermione replied, looking guilty, "but we can't. Ron and I have to go the prefects meeting. I promise we'll find you afterword though."

"Sure thing, I'll see you then."

Harry kept a wide smile plastered on his face as Ron and Hermione left, headed towards the front of the train. But as soon as the door to the next car closed behind them it faded, his face a stony mask.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny asked, concerned.

"Hmm?" he replied, distracted, "Oh yeah, sure, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me Ginny. Go ahead, I'm sure you had friends you wanted to sit with. I'll just go find an empty compartment."

Ginny crossed her arms and glared at him. "Are you telling me to get lost Potter?"

"What? No, not at all, I just thought you must have friends you would want to sit with, that's all."

Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes at him as he stared at her wide eyed.

"So we aren't friends? Come on Potter, follow me."

Together they walked down the narrow hallway, peering into each compartment as they passed.

"You can be a real idiot you know Harry," Ginny said as she peered into a room occupied by Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown, along with several other Gryffindor girls. "Do you really think that I would just ditch a friend like that?"

"I was just trying to be polite," he replied, sounding a little annoyed now at her ribbing. The shade was drawn on the next door on his side, obviously occupied, so he moved on to the next, spotting Justin Finch-Fletchley and several other Hufflepuffs inside. "You're telling me that there was no one else you were going to sit with? What about your other friends?"

She shrugged, "They'll get along fine without me. We aren't exactly as close as you and Ron and Hermione. Dean wanted me to ride with him, but honestly I'd rather spend the time with you."

A cold, icy dagger slid into his chest at the mention of Dean's name, suddenly recalling what she had said to Ron on the train ride home last year.

"Right…Dean," he said haltingly, not sure of what to say, "But wasn't he like…your boyfriend?"

"Where did you hear that? Oh, right, the thing with Ron! No, he isn't my boyfriend, I just said that to get under Ron's skin; worked too. I mean, we've flirted a bit, and he dropped a few hints. He even said he would write to me over the summer, get to know one another better and see what happens. But we aren't actually dating or anything like that. Oh, in here!"

He turned at her call and saw her holding the door open to an empty compartment. _Lucky there was one left,_ he thought as the two of them entered the room, shutting the door behind them, _we're almost all the way at the back of the train as it is._ They sat on opposite sides, Harry staring intently out the window as he tried to figure out what to say.

"But," he began finally, turning his gaze back to her, "why not sit with him then? I mean since you two have been writing all summer…" Even as he said it, Harry was kicking himself. Partly because he felt like he should have noticed that Ginny had been talking to a potential boyfriend all summer long; they had spent almost every waking moment together after all. But also because he knew he should just shut his mouth and let it go, talking to Ginny about her love life could lead to nothing good.

"Like I said, I would rather spend the time with you," Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders. "But if you must know, we really didn't talk all that much. He tried, sent several owls right after school let out, and I replied back a few times. But it wasn't all that long before you disappeared, and then reappeared, and I just didn't have time to reply to any of his letters. Wasn't all that upset about it honestly; once I stopped writing back he got very whiny. I don't want to date any guy who is so insecure that he starts complaining the moment I don't give him my full attention."

Harry felt his gut unclench slightly at this, and he felt his neutral expression lift ever so slightly towards a full blown smile. He was so focused on trying to fight that simple impulse that her next question caught him completely off guard.

"Why so interested Harry?" She smirked amusingly at him as his jaw flapped with no sound coming out, making him look very much like a fish trapped out of water. "You do know," she continued matter of factly, "that eventually we're going to need to talk about what happened the other week…or didn't happen."

"What? Um, I mean…t-that is…Neville!" Harry stood as he shouted, arms outstretched towards the very surprised looking Neville who stood in the open doorway.

"Umm…hey Harry," Neville began slowly, taking Harry's offered hand and giving it a hesitant shake. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Of course not. Well come on in then, sit down."

"Are you sure Harry?" Neville said with a short glance at Ginny, who was sitting with arms folded, glaring daggers at the unusually chatty Boy Who Lived. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're not intruding," Harry assured him, resuming his seat and patting the one next to him, "come on, sit down. How was your summer?"

"It was alright; not that exciting, but then compared to how it started I'm kind of happy about that. Better than usual though. Once Gran found out about what happened at the Ministry, she was nearly in tears; kept hugging me and talking about how I was living up to my dad's legacy at last. Never seen her like that, it was a bit scary. But she did buy me a new wand though. Thirteen inch cherry wood with a unicorn hair core."

He held it out for inspection and Harry nodded appreciatively, "Very nice. With a wand that actually chose you I'm sure you'll do loads better in class too."

"I don't know about that," Neville said, blushing as he tucked the wand back into his pocket. "But I thought it might help me do better in the DA. We're still gonna be meeting, aren't we Harry?"

"Wow," Harry replied, taken aback, "to be honest with you Neville, I hadn't thought about it. But I guess there isn't a reason to keep it going is there? I mean, we created it because of Umbridge, but she's gone now. And I don't think Dumbledore will let a teacher that incompetent back into the school."

"So what?"

Harry looked over at Ginny, who's eyebrows were raised questioningly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said, so what? What does it matter if the professor is good or not, that wasn't all the DA was about. It wasn't just about spiting Umbridge, though I will admit, that was fun. It was about teaching people the things they need to know to protect themselves. Do you honestly think that isn't important anymore? "

"No," Harry admitted, "if anything people need to be prepared now more than ever, now that Voldemort has moved into the open."

"Exactly," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as if this had been the most obvious thing in the world. Harry considered her words carefully, but it was Neville who finally helped him make the decision. He just looked so...hopeful, that Harry didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"Looks like the DA is back on then," he said, smiling at Neville's enthusiastic reaction. "If Dumbledore approves that is."

"Don't see why he wouldn't," Ginny said, shrugging, "if there's anyone who would be in favor of the students learning more defense, it's Dumbledore."

"True," he replied as he reached into his pocket, removing the shrunken trunk and placing it on the floor. He tapped it while muttering under his breath and it sprang to life, the wood warping and stretching before their eyes until finally it had reached its full size. Another muttered phrase caused an audible click and Harry reached out and opened the lid, quickly removing a large black leather bound book before shutting the lid and reversing the process, placing the miniature trunk once again into the pocket of his jeans.

"What's that?" Neville asked curiously.

"It's a present that Moody gave me for my birthday," Harry answered as he opened the book and began to glance through it, quickly flipping through the pages, "talking about the DA just gave me an idea."

"It's full of dark arts spells and curses," Ginny explained for him. "Moody gave it to him as a birthday present; the trunk too. Luckily he left the book inside of the trunk though, cause if Mum had seen it she would have gone mad. Anyway, the note Moody left with it said that to be prepared to fight something, you have to understand it first. I guess that means he wanted Harry to learn all of these spells so that he would be ready if anyone ever used one on him." She shuddered. "At least I hope that's why. Some of the spells we saw in there were just disgusting. Honestly, who wants to rip out someone's intestines and strangle them to death with them?"

"I think it'll do a lot of good though," Harry said, looking up from a page that depicted a screaming man with half of a goat hanging out of the rear of his robes. "I mean like Ginny said, they aren't very pleasant, but just knowing what they are could be dead useful. If the meetings are back on then I'm going to try picking some of these to go over with everyone."

"Harry, you can't do that!" This indignant shout came from the open doorway where Ron and Hermione were standing, the latter looking outraged while the former looked merely bored.

"And why exactly is that Hermione?" Harry asked politely without looking up from his book.

"Because," she explained as she and Ron entered the cabin and took the open seats next to Ginny, "if Hogwarts even has a copy of that book, which I doubt, then it would undoubtedly be in the restricted section. And even if we ignore school rules-"

"You can do that?" interjected Ron, sounding shocked. She ignored him and continued on as if no one had spoken.

"Even if we ignore school rules, then there's still the fact that it isn't right. Some of those spells were just plain evil Harry. We can't just go around teaching people the dark arts." Harry looked indignant.

"Who said anything about that? I'm not saying we should give them handouts about the incantation and wand movements. I'm not even talking about casting the spell in front of them. All I'm talking about doing is explaining what some of the spells they might see are, and show them ways to defend against them."

"But Harry we're talking about the dark arts here," Hermione insisted firmly, "this isn't the kind of thing you want to be messing about with."

"Who says I'm messing about?"

"Look Harry," she said carefully, looking almost nervous, "are you sure your thinking isn't just a bit…clouded on the issue?" Harry looked genuinely confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well...It's just that…I mean Harry, you haven't said a word to us about Sirius. Are you sure you aren't pushing yourself too far, maybe even crossing the line because you want revenge?"

For a moment, Harry nearly exploded. If he had gone off, he felt fairly certain that it would have made his explosion in Dumbledore's office earlier this summer seem miniscule in comparison. But he also knew that such a reaction would only serve to convince Hermione further that she was right. Instead he breathed, slowly and steadily, as he tried to bring his flaring temper under control. As angry with her as he was for suggesting that he would actually start teaching himself and others the dark arts in the name of revenge, he told himself that he couldn't fault her for it. He knew that she meant well, she just didn't realize exactly how irritating her attempts to help could be.

There was a long empty silence that hung in the air of their compartment for several long moments, Ron and Neville not even daring to breathe as they glanced back and forth between the two. Ginny however took a different approach.

"That was way out of line Hermione." The bushy haired girl crossed her arms indignantly.

"No it wasn't. I'm not saying that Harry is evil or anything. This could be something subconscious; he may not even realize that it's happening."

"And what makes you so sure that anything is happening?"

"Ginny, he lost his godfather and he's refusing to talk to us about it. There have to be some feelings that he's repressing and if he doesn't talk them out then they'll build up and…"

"Shut up." The simple command cut Hermione off mid flow and she gaped at the stubborn looking redhead, who stared right back. "Look, I'm sorry Hermione but you're running under two assumptions here that I think I need to point out. One, you are assuming that Harry has some kind of deep wound that needs to be nursed back to health. You can't badger him into feeling broken just so that you can fix him." Hermione looked thunderous and opened her mouth to retort but Ginny continued unabated. "Two, you are assuming that Harry hasn't already talked to someone about what happened to Sirius."

"He hasn't," Hermione said quickly, "he hasn't talked to me or Ron." Ginny laughed.

"Ok, why is it that he has to talk to one of you two?"

"We're his best friends."

"So what, that doesn't mean he has to come to you for everything. I know for a fact that he's written Lupin a few times since his birthday party, and he's talked to me as well." Hermione couldn't have looked more stunned if she'd just been hit with a Stupefy.

"He…he talked to you about it? And Professor Lupin?" Ginny didn't answer, just crossed her arms and stared pointedly. Hermione swallowed heavily and looked at Harry, who hadn't said a word during the entire discussion, merely sitting quietly while the two girls argued. "Harry, I'm sorry. Ginny's right, I shouldn't have assumed that you would only talk to Ron and me. After everything that's happened to you this summer though I can't seem to stop worrying about you. I know how much Sirius meant to you, and I know if I lost someone that close to me I would need you to be there for me. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories Harry; I honestly just wanted to help."

"I know Hermione," Harry said, offering her a small smile, "and it's ok. I know you wanted to be there for me, and I'm sorry that I couldn't let you. I don't know why, I just…couldn't talk to you about this. But I hope this makes you feel better about me teaching dark spells for personal revenge?" Hermione blushed and looked away.

"Yes."

"Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, I hope that means that you'll be willing to help me put together a plan for the DA again. I'm rubbish with all the organizational stuff and I could really use a hand."

"Of course," she replied, perking up instantly, "I'll start putting together a rough draft of a schedule tomorrow morning and we can go over it during lunch, ok?" Harry's smile widened.

"Sounds excellent." His eyebrows furrowed slightly as a thought entered his head. "Hermione, what are you even doing here? Not that I mind, but you and Ron were only gone for about ten minutes. Last year it took you nearly an hour to finish with Prefect duties." Hermione blushed yet again and Ron laughed aloud.

"Well the meeting was short as it was, what with the Aurors confiscating our usual compartment. But believe me mate, I'm as surprised as you are. As soon as the meeting was over, we skipped out and found you. Didn't do one bit of patrolling."

"I'd expect that from you Ron," Ginny said with a wry smile, "but I can't believe that Hermione let you get away with that."

"I can't believe it either," Ron laughed, though he did flinch a little when he saw the scowl Hermione was giving him. "But it wasn't my idea. Hermione said that Harry shouldn't have to be alone, and that was more important than patrolling the train. I wasn't about to argue." Everyone looked at Hermione in shock, even Neville, and at this point her face was so red she could have been mistaken for a Weasley. None of them could believe that Hermione, who took her job as a prefect very seriously, had not only skived off work, but it was even her idea.

"Well I didn't know that he would have Ginny and Neville to keep him company," Hermione growled, "but now that I know, why don't we just go back out and patrol now?" Ron shook his head and held up his hands in surrender.

"No, no, that's ok, really." The other three laughed at them, unable to help themselves as they listened to Ron's desperate pleas. They were still laughing when they felt the train lurch violently beneath them before resuming its normal steady pace.

"What was that?" Neville asked as they all looked around in confusion.

"Not sure," said Harry, standing up and moving to the window, staring out at the flashing scenery. "Maybe something's wrong with the engine?"

"It can't be," Hermione contested, "the Hogwarts Express isn't like a muggle train, it's run by magic. In over a century it hasn't broken down once." Ron shook his head sadly.

"It's scary that you know that."

"Oh shut up Ron. It's in Hogwarts: A History. Just because you can't imagine reading anything more complicated than a quidditch magazine doesn't mean the rest of the world has to be that way!"

"Just be quiet, the both of you," Harry warned them as he continued to peer out at the passing countryside. He saw nothing but rolling hills and the green boughs of the nearby forest, but that did nothing to ease the tightening sensation he felt in his stomach. Whether he could see it or not, he knew that something was terribly wrong.

Then, from out of nowhere, there came an enormous shriek of metal, and everything became chaos as they were all suddenly flung towards the front of the compartment. Harry, who had still been on his feet, didn't even have time to scream as he felt his feet leave the floor and he was propelled forward, his shoulder slamming hard into the wood paneling that separated the compartments. He felt a pop and felt a rush of pain before he hit the ground with a mighty thud and lay there until he finally felt the world come to a grinding stop. For several long moments, no one moved or spoke and all that could be heard was pained moans and groans as they lay in a huddled mass on the floor of the compartment.

"I think I broke my arse," Ron finally mumbled, hand held to the back of his head as he slowly propped himself up on an elbow.

"Shut up Ron!" Ginny snarled at him, the end of her shout turning into an angry hiss as she clutched at her side. "This is no time for jokes."

"I know," he laughed weakly, "sorry. How bad is everyone hurt?"

Neville, who had pushed himself up to his feet, swayed unsteadily and lowered himself back into the seat he had been occupying. "I'll live," he answered quietly, rubbing at his chest and wincing. Hermione was much the same as the others, battered and bruised, though she was also nursing a sprained wrist. It was Harry who had obviously come out the worse for wear, likely because he had been standing while the others had been sitting. He was covered in more bruises than the rest, including a very nasty looking one on his forehead, and his face pinched in obvious pain when he tried moving his left shoulder.

"Jeez Harry, you look like you tried to wrestle a mountain troll," Ron said, eyeing him up and down. Harry laughed softly through gritted teeth as he used his other arm to pull himself up to his feet.

"Yeah I feel like it too." He reached down and offered Ginny his hand to help her to her feet before he resumed his position at the window.

"What in the bloody hell happened!" Ron exploded, a deep scowl spread across his face. Hermione laid a placating hand on his shoulder.

"I could have been wrong," she admitted, sounding almost hopeful, "maybe something has gone wrong with the train."

"I don't think so," Harry said darkly as he stared out the window where the front of the train was barely visible through a gathering mass of thick fog. He watched as the group of dark cloaked figures swarmed the second car behind the engine, and already he could hear the distant sounds of spells echoing through the corridor.

The moment he had felt the first lurch, Mad-Eye had known they were in trouble. While the young Aurors around him shared questioning looks with one another, he had reacted, drawing his wand and pointing it towards the side of the car, shouting "Expecto Patronum!" as he did his best to hold a happy memory in his mind. He saw the telltale silver mist erupt from the end of his wand and he held an image of Dumbledore in his head and managed to shout "Under attack!" moments before the inside of their train car came alive with flying bodies.

"Sound off," he growled as soon as the shrieking and shaking had stopped, pushing himself upright and grunting in discomfort. Luckily their car had been mostly empty except for their seats so there had been little for them to slam into save one another, but that had been more than enough. One by one the Aurors called out, some moaning, others groaning, but all in various states of pain. But it was quickly apparent to him as he scanned the room that their number was short by one. He found the missing man at the very front of the car, lying limply on the floor with Tonks cradling his limp head in her lap.

Moody had been a soldier for a long time and had fought dark wizards all his adult life. It was immediately apparent to him from the unnatural angle of the boy's neck and his blank, sightless eyes that he was gone and Moody laid a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"Bloody hell," someone said from behind him, and Moody could already hear shocked and horrified gasps as they all came to their feet and saw the state of their comrade. "What happened? Why did we stop?"

"Death Eaters," Moody called over his shoulder as he stood, his magical eye finally locating the wand that had been ripped from his hand during the crash. He retrieved it and then leaned forward and peered out the nearby window, eyes narrowing at the thick mist that clung to the glass. His magical eye spun round and round, desperately searching for any sign of their approaching opponents, but was dismayed to learn that even its powerful enchantment could not pierce the thick veil. He reached out and attempted to open the window, but even throwing all his weight into it could not open the sliding glass.

"Maybe it was just an accident," one of the Aurors offered weakly. Moody whirled on him, and the look he gave told the man that he couldn't have been more disgusted with him if he had just sprouted tentacles from his face and started to fondle himself.

"Are you slow in the head?" he asked before snorting dismissively. "Never mind, let's just assume you're an idiot and move along. We have Death Eaters moving on the train Aurors, we need to protect the students. Wands out and start moving back, we'll clear each section as we go."

His commanding tone shook them out of their collective shock from the accident plus the loss of their comrade and they all straightened slightly, pulling wands from holsters and moving towards the door to the next car. Tonks finally stood, wiping her wet cheeks on her sleeve and moved to follow but Moody held out an arm, stopping her.

"You're with me," he said in answer to her questioning eyebrow. "Let the other's deal with the rest of the students, we need to get to Potter." She opened her mouth and he raised a hand to forestall any objections. "Look, you know as well as I do that they have no real interest in killing all the students on this train. If they did then they would have just blown us to pieces in the first place. They're here looking for him. Damn it all, I knew I should have forced him to ride up front with me, but Dumbledore insisted that we let him try to be as normal as possible. Phagh, hard to be normal when you're dead."

She acknowledged his orders with a nod and the two of them fell into step as they passed through the dual line of Aurors to reach the door to the next car. Moody paused with his hand on the door, looking back at the anxious faces behind him.

"Remember, these are Death Eaters you're dealing with. I managed to get a message off to Dumbledore asking for help, but we don't know when that might arrive. So shoot first and ask them to surrender after. Move fast and always…constant vigilance!" And with that reminder he turned and pushed open the door, moving into the next car with his wand at the ready and with Tonks and the rest of the security detail close behind him.

They had barely made it a half a dozen steps inside before the door at the far end of the hallway was blasted open, revealing a robed, masked figure with his wand held at the ready. Before any of the others could even blink, Moody shouted "Protego!" and almost instantly felt his arm shake with the shock of spells impacting his shield. He part fell, part dived into the closed door to his left, landing with a thud at the feet of a half dozen screaming first year girls.

The rest of the team was not idle, having taken advantage of Moody's shield spell to find their own cover, ducking into the nearest doorway or even entering a compartment as Moody had, doing their best to assure the students that everything was just fine. But by the time any of them began to fire their own stunning spells down the narrow hallway, the first Death Eater had parroted their movements, as had a second just behind him, and the two of them were already firing a seemingly endless barrage of curses towards the beleaguered group.

"Hey Mad-Eye," Tonks shouted, her voice barely audible in the chaos of shouted spells and splintering wood, "you still alive in there?" She leaned forward slightly from her position in the open doorway of one of the train compartments, careful not to go too far and give the Death Eaters a target to hit. From her position she could just make out the doorway Moody had fallen through just ahead of her and across the hall, but could see no sign of the grizzled veteran.

Her answer came in the form of a scarred, steady hand thrusting out of the open doorway. She heard him shout "Confringo" and saw the spell erupt from the tip of his wand, moving faster than her eye could follow as it flew down the corridor and smashed into the floor between where the two Death Eaters crouched.

The moment the spell impacted the thin carpeting covering the wooden floor, it exploded, a gaping hole appearing in the floor and hurling hundreds of wooden slivers large and small through the air and directly into the surprised Death Eaters. Though their masks protected most of their faces, their eyes were still quite vulnerable, and against the fast moving projectiles, their robes might as well have been tissue paper. Within seconds of the explosion, both men were rolling on the floor, shrieking in pain as pools of blood slowly grew beneath them.

Tonks and the others slowly began to emerge from their positions, wands held at the ready but many of them flinching and looking away from the gruesome sight.

"Eyes front," growled Moody as he emerged from his compartment, wand and magical eye never wavering from the two twitching bodies, "constant vigilance."

"Somehow I don't think they're going to jump up and attack us sir," someone behind him said, sounding like they were barely containing their lunch. Moody didn't reply as he advanced forward, each step slow and cautious. His magical eye widened and he was able to shout "Cover!" and press himself into the nearest doorframe moments before spells began flying down the hallway once again. At least two Aurors were knocked unconscious before they were able to react, but the rest were quick to pull their unconscious comrades to safety. Though with the amount of spells being thrown at them, safe was a relative term.

Moody cackled wildly from his position at the front of the group, back pressed tightly against the wooden door. "Anyone else think we don't have anything to worry about?" He poked his wand out and fired several stunning spells in the general direction of their attackers, but he knew that he wasn't going to be hitting anything blindly like that. Even so, it would at least cause the masked bastards to flinch a little. As useless as his eye had been at piercing the fog surrounding the train, inside there were no such problems. He could see their exact situation, and it wasn't promising.

The two he had injured had stopped moaning, so they were either dead or soon to be. But beyond them in the next car he could see three more masked figures standing to either side of the doorway that connected the two cars. Occasionally one of them would lean outward and fire a half dozen spells towards the Auror position before pulling back to avoid any possible return fire. Considering their entrenched position as well as the narrow corridors, not to mention the hundreds of students that were in danger, the Death Eaters could sit there and hold his team in place for as long as they liked. And there was damn little he could do to stop them.

His little tactic had worked on the first two Death Eaters because he had surprise on his side and because the pair were overconfident in their own abilities. Even if this group hadn't seen what had happened to the others, and he would be a fool to assume that was the case, he couldn't rely on that trick working a second time.

"So, this is fun," Tonks shouted at him from across the hall, trying not to flinch as a curse zoomed past inches from her face. "Any bright ideas?"

"Ones that don't result in possibly killing dozens of students as well?" Moody asked before he shook his head. "No, not at the moment."

"What about apparition?"

"Feel free to try it, but I'll bet my pension that they have anti-apparition wards already placed."

Tonks eyed him anxiously, "What about Harry?"

Moody shook his head slowly, "We're no good to anyone dead, which is exactly what we'll be if we try to charge them blindly. Albus should have the word out by now, we'll have reinforcements soon. Until then…the boy's on his own."


	12. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. _

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, his voice shaking heavily.

Harry pulled back from the window, wincing at the dull, throbbing pain in his shoulder. He placed a hand on it to keep it still and said, "It looks like we'll have to fight." Neville didn't say anything, his eyes wide with fear but his face was stony, set into a determined mask. Ginny was much the same, and despite his shaky voice Ron nodded gravely, adding a quiet, "We're with you Harry."

Hermione on the other hand looked beside herself.

"No Harry, we should stay here. You're not in any shape to be fighting Death Eaters. Besides, there's a whole team of Aurors on the train with us, including Tonks and Moody. They're professionals, I'm sure they have the situation under control. If we go out there and try to help we'll probably only be in the way."

Harry was shaking his head before she even finished. "That's wishful thinking Hermione and you know it. I'm guessing that the Aurors were sitting up near the front car, right?" Her silence spoke volumes and he continued on unabated. "Sitting in the front, right where I saw Death Eaters climbing aboard. And if they managed to get in between Moody and us, then we're cut off. Who knows how long it might take Moody to fight his way to us then." Hermione still looked uncertain.

"But Harry –" she began before he cut her off.

"Hermione, we all know that they're here for me. Capture me, kill me, either way if we just sit back here and make them search for us compartment by compartment then students are going to get hurt. If we go out there and fight them then at least they might leave the other students alone. I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt because of me." Hermione looked back and forth between each of them, desperately searching for support. Finally she closed her eyes and bowed her head in defeat.

"Fine, I can see I'm going to be out voted here. Just please, let's be careful Harry."

Harry nodded his head in agreement and moved to the door, wand at the ready.

"Let's go."

Their small band moved swiftly down the hall through the first two cars with no signs of Death Eater activity, though Harry could already make out the sounds of the fight he had heard earlier growing louder as they worked their way towards the front of the train. As soon as he stepped into the third car though, he came to a grinding halt.

"Well, well, well it's little Potter," sneered the masked Death Eater standing at the end of the hallway, wand already pointed their way. "It must be my lucky day. Drop the wands and maybe I'll let your little friends live."

"Don't do it Harry," whispered Ginny from somewhere behind him, "we're with you."

"Come now Potter, you aren't thinking of resisting are you?" the man said with a laugh. The scowl Harry was shooting the man tightened as two more masked figures came through the doorway behind the first, taking up positions just behind him. "Think of your friends. Surely even _you_ realize what a hopeless situation this is."

Harry did not have a chance to reply, as he heard someone shout "Diffindo" from behind him and felt a white bolt of magic hiss over his shoulder, smashing into the face of one of the trailing Death Eaters. The man's piercing cries of agony echoed through the cramped hallway and Harry turned to look over his shoulder where he saw Ginny, who had pushed her way ahead of the others, glaring darkly at the hooded figures.

"If you want him so badly," she snarled, "come and get him!"

The Death Eater who had been struck was still screaming; clutching at his face in a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood as his compatriot tried to get him to hold still long enough to be healed.

"My face!" he howled, "The bitch cut my face! Kill her!"

The distraught Death Eater pointed the wand he still held in a shaking hand at the group of teenagers, clearly intending to retaliate, but the group's leader turned and slapped his hand away.

"Shut up you idiot and let him heal you," he growled quietly.

"But," the man blubbered, "Rodolphus…"

"Be silent you fool!" the leader bellowed. Harry's eyes had widened in shock as he recognized the name. This was Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of Bellatrix and one of the Death Eaters that had tortured Neville Longbottom's parents into insanity. He swore he could almost hear Neville's teeth grinding somewhere behind him. He had no more time to ponder the matter however, as when Lestrange turned around Harry could tell from his voice that the unstable Death Eater was fast losing his patience.

"So what is it going to be Potter? Surrender now or I am going to have to start killing your friends."

Harry felt torn. He knew that even if he did surrender himself the Death Eaters would never keep any bargain they made. They would likely curse his friends the moment he was within their grasp just because they could. But from the way Lestrange had reacted to his companion's attempt to cast what was probably a lethal spell, as well as their repeated calls for his surrender, their mission seemed to be to capture him rather than kill him. Harry suddenly realized that this was eerily similar to the standoff that had occurred in the Department of Mysteries only a few short months ago. _Voldemort must still want to know the prophecy, _Harry realized with a jolt.

"You know, somehow I don't think you'll do that," Harry replied with a calculating look, "It sounds to me like your master wants to get his hands on me again, which means you aren't allowed to kill me. And if you start throwing lethal curses at us in this small a space that's exactly what's going to happen, so you can't risk it."

Lestrange swelled with rage at Harry's accurate assessment of the situation and shouted, "Take him alive!" All three quickly fired stunners. Harry was faster.

"Protego!" he shouted, grunting as he felt the impact of the spells against his shield. He could hear the others behind him, scrambling to find cover from the Death Eaters who were now slowly stalking towards them and firing at Harry's shield with increasing frustration. He grimaced as a wave of spells jolted into his shield, their force driving him to his knees. _I'm not sure how much longer I can hold this_, he thought to himself as he felt beads of sweat begin to drip down his face.

"Harry," he heard Ginny shout from his right. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her crouched in an open doorway to one of the compartments, beckoning to him, so he waited until the next wave of spells hit and then dropped his shield, rolling to the side. As he came through the doorway he slammed into Ginny, leaving them both tangled together on the floor of the compartment.

"Sorry," he whispered from his position atop her, staring into her deep brown eyes as she grinned up at him roguishly.

"Don't worry about it Potter. A scrawny bloke like you, I barely felt it." He was forced to swallow his indignant reply when a stunner slammed into the doorframe overhead, showering them with piercing shards of wood. Harry could feel several small sharp stings in his back and he knew that Madame Pomfrey would be pulling splinters from him well into the night. _If we last that long_, he thought darkly.

Harry stood, groaning as he felt the shards of wood embedded in his flesh moving with him. Somewhat unsteadily, he reached a hand down to Ginny and helped her to her feet before unceremoniously pushing her down onto the nearby bench.

"Hey," she protested, her face thunderous, "just what in the hell do you think-"

"Just stay back, there isn't room here for two," he replied as he edged forward and peeked around the corner at the oncoming Death Eaters – an action which earned him another wave of spells fired his way. He shouted into the hallway, praying that the others could hear him in their respective compartments over the cacophony of spell fire and exploding wood. "Everyone start shooting! We have to keep them back!" He suited action to words, edging his wand around the corner and blindly pointing in the general direction of the Death Eaters.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, and was pleased to hear several other voices echoing him and to see several jets of red light joining his own. He heard all three men swear loudly, but at least one of them managed a quick shield charm and Harry heard the tell tale sound of spell fire impacting a shield. "Keep shooting," he encouraged the others as he fired off a barrage of stunning spells and disarming charms. They were the most basic dueling spells he knew, but he was hoping to force their opponents back through sheer volume. And amazingly it was working.

As he peered out around the edge of the doorframe once again, he could see that all three Death Eaters had given up even attempting to fire any offensive spells, instead overlapping their shields to offer as much protection as possible. And even as he watched he could see the shield wall slowly crawling its way backwards towards the far door.

He pulled back, his smile wide as he turned to tell Ginny the good news…and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the look on her face. She was angry…very angry. He had never seen her like this before. In fact he wasn't even sure how to describe the shade of red her face had actually become. She was standing directly in front of him, arms crossed in a very convincing imitation of her mother, and he was desperately trying to think of something to say when a voice spoke.

"H-Harry…Ginny?" it asked softly. Both of them turned and for the first time noticed the other occupants of the compartment they had commandeered. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and three fourth year Gryffindors that Harry didn't recognize were all huddled in the corners, trying to squeeze themselves back as far as possible and looking at the two of them as if they were both completely mental. Harry waved at them awkwardly.

"Hello…erm, had a good summer?"

It was Dean who stepped forward, and Harry realized it must have been him who had spoken before.

"Harry…what the hell is going on?"

"Death Eaters." Dean and Seamus' eyes widened, and the younger boys all gasped in horror. One even began to cry.

"Death Eaters," Dean repeated, incredulous, "on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Yes Dean," Ginny said exasperatedly, "they're on the Hogwarts Express. Didn't you notice the giant crash earlier?"

"Well yeah," he stammered, put off by her aggressive attitude, "but we just figured the train broke down, no big deal."

"Yeah, well sorry to disappoint," Harry said as he turned and walked back to the doorway. He had just noticed that the amount of noise had been decreasing steadily for the last minute or so and had now completely stopped.

"Hey Ginny," Dean said, his voice a little firmer now as he obviously tried to get a grip on his emotions, "where have you been? I thought we were going to sit together."

"What?" Ginny replied, only half hearing the question as she had been edging closer to Harry in an attempt to hear what was going on out in the hallway.

"Didn't you get my letters," he asked, sounding hurt. "I mean I've been writing you all summer but I haven't heard back from you in a while. I sent you a one a few days ago asking you to meet me on the train so we could sit together, try and get to know each other more?"

"Yes, I got your letters Dean."

"But then how come-"

"Dean does this really seem like the time!"

Harry was vaguely aware of the drama occurring behind him, but he could not spare his attention to think about it. He was focused intently; staring at the trio of Death Eaters who had retreated to almost the end of the car, but had now stopped in their tracks and showed no intention of moving any further. He saw one of the three drop his shield and step back, moving to the nearest compartment door.

"Ok Potter," Lestrange shouted at him, "if you want to play rough that's fine with me. Dolohov, get us a hostage!" Harry watched helplessly as the figure he now knew to be Antonin Dolohov pushed open the compartment door and stepped inside, wand raised. He knew what would happen now; any moment the Death Eater would reappear clutching some helpless child and demand his surrender. And he would agree. He couldn't let an innocent die to save himself. What actually happened though was something he could not expect.

Almost as soon as he walked through the doorway, Harry heard an enormous impact and watched in shock and glee as Dolohov flew back out, impacting the far wall and slumping to the ground. He wasn't exactly unconscious, but from the slowness of his movements Harry doubted he'd be in fighting condition any time soon.

Lestrange, though shocked, reacted immediately, turning his own shield towards the open doorway to deflect any follow-up attacks and calling for his other companion to pull Dolohov with them as they retreated even further back towards the front of the car. Out of the compartment door Harry saw a mane of white blonde hair appear and he couldn't help but chuckle at the innocent and bemused look on Luna Lovegood's face.

"Oh my, look at that, he seems to be in quite a bit of pain. He really should be more careful when running into a room like that; there could be a nargle infestation." She then turned and waved at Harry and the others. "Hello everyone, so nice to see you."

"Luna, get back inside the compartment and lock the door."

"Ok." And with that she turned right around, closing the door behind her as if nothing had happened.

"Give it up," Ron shouted from his position in the compartment directly behind Harry, clearly feeling cocky at having seemingly outwitted seasoned Death Eaters. "There's no way you can get to us now. I suggest you run on home before the Aurors get here."

"I wouldn't expect help from them boy," Lestrange snarled, clearly enraged. "They're quite busy and in no position to help you. Surrender or I'll burn this train to the ground!"

"We both know you won't do that," Harry shouted back, "you're far too afraid of what your master will do to you if you kill me." Harry hoped that at least. Their behavior so far seemed to support that theory. They just had to hold out a bit longer until Moody could fight his way through to them.

Lastrange cackled madly "Oh Potter, I won't be killing you. I have no idea who I am going to kill, nor do I care." He raised his wand and pointed it at the compartment door directly to his left. "If you don't surrender in the next minute then I am going to destroy this entire room and whoever is in it. After that I will continue to destroy a compartment every ten seconds until either you surrender or I run out of children. Make your choice Potter."

Harry turned frantically, his mind racing as he ran his hand though his messy unkempt hair, and trying to avoid Ginny's terrified expression as he searched for an alternative to surrender. Then he froze in place, staring at the fog covered window. The plan was dangerous, it was desperate…and it was his only chance.

"Everyone away from the window," he said, speaking urgently but calmly. He quickly herded the three younger Gryffindors away from the outside wall and pressed them into the corner nearest the door before turning to the others. "I need the three of you to cast shield charms on my signal, can you do that?" All three nodded, though Dean and Seamus both seemed a bit dazed at the perilous situation they suddenly found themselves thrust into. "Right, I am going to blow out the window there. If I can get it open and get outside the Death Eaters will follow me and I can lead them away. Ginny, as soon as you see them follow me, get the others and keep moving forward, try to get to Moody."

He did not give her time to respond, moving to the open doorway and leaning out slightly to make sure his voice carried.

"Hey, Lestrange!"

"I was beginning to worry Potter…your time had almost run out. Come out now without your wand and no one need be hurt."

Harry turned his head very slightly and nodded at Ginny, Dean, and Seamus.

"I have a better idea Lestrange. Why don't you and your little friends come and get me!" And with that last shouted word Harry turned, pointed his wand over Ginny's conjured shield charm at the compartment window, and fired a blasting curse directly into the glass. Then the world exploded.

Fire roared loudly and a blast of heat nearly knocked all of them from their feet. A massive rain of debris and shards of glass flew in all directions with the force of a hurricane. Were it not for the shields that had been erected at his nod by his three friends, Harry knew without a doubt that everyone in their compartment would have been killed. As it was Dean had nearly been bowled over and Seamus was unsteady on his feet. Ginny had held up the best but the sheer force of the explosion had thrown her backwards into Harry's chest and he could feel her breathing heavily now as she finally lowered her shaking arm, coughing lightly as the heavy dust that now hung in the air entered her lungs.

"Bloody…hell," she managed in between labored breaths. Harry couldn't disagree with her assessment.

Instead of a destroyed window, there was a gaping hole in the side of the train more than a meter wide, its jagged edges still smoking slightly. Ginny turned her head to look at Harry over her shoulder, her face an unreadable mask.

"I have no idea," he replied to her unasked question. He moved her gently to one side as he walked towards the damage, waving his hand through the thick cloud of dust in the air in an attempt to find some clear breathing space. He leaned in to get a closer look and realized that the fog that had clutched so tightly to the train before had vanished, but straightened again abruptly as angry shouts finally began to filter through from the hallway.

"There's no time for this right now," he said desperately, his eyes locking with Ginny's. I have to lead them away from here. Remember what I told you."

"Harry you can't…" she began, but he was already gone, leaping through the hole he had made and falling out of sight to the ground below. "Damn it," she hissed. Immediately she turned and peered around the doorframe towards the Death Eaters just in time to the figure of Lestrange pass through the doorway that connected them to the next car and which also gave him access to the outside, swearing so loudly that she could still hear him even as he passed from view. Still remaining were the unknown man that she had cursed earlier and the still prone figure of Antonin Dolohov who looked to still be only semi-conscious.

She knew immediately that Harry's plan was out. While Lestrange was obviously pursuing Harry, and Merlin only knew how many other Death Eaters with him, Harry's assumption that every Death Eater would be hot on his tail was obviously wrong. Even with only one fully functioning Death Eater she doubted that she and the others would be able to fight their way through…at least not in time to get help for Harry. She turned and stared hard at the hole Harry had made, furrowing her brow and biting down on her upper lip before she finally reached a decision.

"Hermione," she called out, her voice steady and calm, "you, Ron, and Neville need to try to get past the last Death Eater and make your way forward. Find help."

"Oh yeah, brilliant plan Gin," Ron drawled sarcastically, "The three of us you say? What's going on in there, what happened?"

"The great prat's done something noble again," she replied. Then she ran, ignoring Ron and Hermione's shouted questions and Dean's desperate pleas for her to stop as she leapt through the breach, following Harry into the darkening afternoon sky.

Harry supposed, in hindsight, that it would have been smart to look down before he had jumped headlong through the side of a train. This thought had been of little comfort though as he fell through the open air and realized to his horror that the ground below was not flat, but rather the top of a rather large, steep hill. He had rolled, bounced, and slid his way down the embankment, trying desperately to protect his wand and swearing loudly at each rock that crossed his path before finally coming to a gentle stop, his momentum played out.

"Oww," he groaned aloud as stiff, unresponsive muscles slowly brought him to his feet. Immediately he inspected his wand for damage and was pleased to see that it had survived the trip intact, if not a little worse for wear. Sighing in relief, he turned away from the train to face the nearby forest and consider his next move when a loud "Shit!" rang out from behind him. He whirled around, wand at the ready, just in time to see a rolling blur slam into his shins and send him flying face first back into the grass. Ignoring the blazing pain in his legs, Harry instantly rolled onto his side bringing his wand to bear on his attacker.

"Ginny," he shouted incredulously, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Oh stuff it Potter," she groaned back at him as she staggered to her feet holding her right arm gingerly. "Whether you want the help or not, I'm not letting you do this alone." Blood was dripping slowly down her arm, and she hissed in pain as she poked gingerly at the wound. "Must have been a rock," she reasoned as she used her other hand to apply pressure to the cut. "It doesn't seem too bad though."

Harry glared at her, wishing that he had the time to tell her off for putting herself in danger and that he could send her right back to the others, but already he could hear shouting coming from the forward end of the train. Two masked figures already stood at the top of the hill by the next car forward from the one Harry and Ginny had just left, their wands drawn.

"Run!" Harry shouted.

Both of them took off towards the nearby trees mere seconds before the tell-tale red flash of stunning spells slammed into the grass where the pair had been standing, sending large plumes of dirt into the air behind them. The relative safety of the forest was only a few meters away from the bottom of the hill, so despite a heavy stream of spell fire all around them Harry reached it within seconds, untouched. Ginny was only a few steps behind, but stopped in her tracks as a spell zipped past her cheek, coming within millimeters of hitting her. She whirled about, her cheeks flushed in anger and pointed her wand shouting "Tarantallegra!" before ducking behind a large oak.

The spell flew towards one of the Death Eaters that were now slowly making their way down the hill, hitting him in his chest. Immediately the man's legs began dancing uncontrollably, which was a very dangerous thing to be doing given his precarious position. Before he could even begin to bring his wand to bear to cast the counter spell, he had lost his tenuous footing and fell, rolling and bouncing his way down the hill with legs still doing their best to continue their dance. Both teens winced when they heard the audible snap of a bone breaking and tried to ignore the man's horrified screams as the unnaturally twisted appendage continued to dance to and fro.

Harry couldn't help the stab of sympathy he felt, leaning out from hiding just long enough to stun the wounded Death Eater into unconsciousness. He ducked back behind the tree he was using as cover almost immediately though, his heart racing. While he had only seen the two Death Eaters initially, obviously word that he had escaped the train had spread quickly as no less than a dozen masked figures were now streaming down the hill from further up the train. Ginny saw them as well, shooting Harry a look that clearly said "Now what?"

The remaining Death Eater of the pair he had first seen had long since reached the bottom of the slope and slowly he pulled back the black hood on his robes, tossing aside his mask as his brethren fell into place around him and revealing the face of Rodolphus Lestrange, his face twisted in rage.

"You are persistent Potter," he snarled, spitting Harry's name as if it were a vile taste in his mouth, "it's no wonder the Dark Lord finds you so irritating. But your race is run boy; you have nowhere left to go and I am tired of playing games. Death Eaters…advance!" On his order, all twelve masked figures stalked forward, their wands raised. Harry was trying desperately to remain calm, to find a way out. He knew that with the Death Eaters having the advantage in numbers that shield spells and stunners were not going to be enough this time. It would only take one or two of them to counter any spell he or Ginny fired, which gave the rest all the time they needed to surround them. And it was when his thoughts turned to Ginny, and the injury she was still nursing, that an idea came to him.

He stepped out from behind the tree he was using as cover in plain view of the approaching Death Eaters. They hesitated, just for a moment, as they wondered if he might be surrendering himself. That illusion was dispelled moments later when he raised his wand and pointed it directly into the middle of their group.

"Accio Rocks!"

Now, Harry had never attempted to summon multiple objects before, and in fact he knew that doing so was NEWT level magic, but he felt safe in assuming that the basic theory was the same. Beyond that, he knew that if he didn't do something immediately both he and Ginny would be captured by Voldemort's followers and he simply couldn't let that happen so he cast the spell and crossed his fingers.

He needn't have worried though. Almost the moment he had shouted the spell the small stones that littered the side of the hill, some no larger than a marble and some the size of a quaffle, began tearing free of their earthy prison and flying towards the him. Being rocks, they were not even aware of the black robed mob that stood in their way, but the reverse was not true.

As soon as Harry had raised his wand, the front most Death Eaters had come together, raising shield charms in anticipation of his attack, and when none came they all seemed genuinely confused. That confusion turned to terror and pain moments later when the first wave of rocks slammed into their back ranks with the force of bludgers. Half of their number fell almost immediately, screaming in pain and clutching at shattered knees and cracked ribs. The shouts of their comrades though was enough warning that the front row, who had already raised shields towards Harry, were able to turn and deflect the incoming missiles away. This of course presented their backs to Harry, who had ducked back behind the tree, and Ginny who took full advantage of the situation, firing stunning spells towards the Death Eater's exposed rear. Three more fell before the last of the rocks were dealt with and they were able to turn their attentions back to the two teens.

Which left Lestrange, who had been standing to one side observing, with only two Death Eaters still standing, the others all in various states of pain or unconsciousness.

"Damn you Potter," he screamed in rage, "DAMN YOU!"

"Just evening the odds a little," Harry replied casually. "Why don't you just run on back to your master and beg for forgiveness. I'm sure he won't hurt you too terribly."

Lestrange had begun pacing back and forth, muttering darkly to himself and occasionally shaking his head violently. "Damn him…can't let him win…Dark Lord wants…have to do it…no other choice." Harry began to grow increasingly uncomfortable as he watched surreptitiously from behind his tree. He had known from the beginning that Lestrange was unstable; after all look at who he was married to. But this was the first time he had seen actual signs that the man was coming unhinged. The way he was muttering to himself and what he was saying, almost as if he were working himself up to do something. And Harry felt his gut clench as he realized why Lestrange's actions seemed so familiar. He was behaving very similarly to how Dolores Umbridge had only a few months previously…just before she had attempted to use the Cruciatus curse on him to try to get information. Suddenly Lestrange stopped pacing and whirled towards the forest.

"Fine Potter, have it your way," he shouted, his face redder than an embarrassed Weasley. "I will give you one last choice; surrender…or BURN!" His wand rose before Harry could even begin to react. "Incendio!"

Harry watched as flames leapt from the tip of the Death Eater's wand into the treetops some twenty meters to Harry's left, igniting the dry leaves instantly. Harry could feel the intense heat on his face even from this distance.

"Rodolphus what are you doing?" one of the other Death Eaters shouted as he stepped in front of Lestrange, shock evident in his voice. "The Dark Lord gave specific orders, we cannot endanger the boy's life!" Lestrange shoved him back, pointing his wand directly at his comrade's mask.

"You know nothing!" he screamed, spittle flying out with every syllable. "The Dark Lord entrusted me with this task, ME! No one else! I will not fail him. Potter will surrender himself or he will die…either way he can no longer harm our Lord." Without a further word he turned his wand and fired again, this time to the right, bracketing Harry's location with flame.

Harry coughed as smoke from the growing blaze began to fill his lungs and ducked down, hoping to find clearer air. He could see Ginny doing the same and he quickly moved over to her, carefully keeping an eye on the remaining Death Eaters in case he was seen.

"What do we do Harry?" Ginny coughed. Harry knew that she was hoping for a brilliant idea, something like the rocks he had used that would get them out of this predicament, the kind of impossible plan that seemed impossible but somehow managed to save the day. He looked deep into her eyes, holding her gaze for several moments before he replied.

"I don't know."

Moody was sweating buckets, his breathing was shallow, and he was having trouble staying steady on his bad leg. _I'm getting too old for this shit_, he thought to himself even as he leaned around the corner and blasted another hole in the wall he knew his opponent hid behind. He ducked back immediately but still barely missed the return fire they sent his way. He swore under his breath as he heard a loud cry of pain from one of the compartments behind him as he knew that one of the spells had found its mark and likely it meant that one more of his rapidly dwindling force of Aurors was out of commission.

He had managed to take out the next two groups of Death Eaters after the first two men through a combination of guile, fancy spell work, and a little bit of luck. But every time he managed to incapacitate one group, yet more had appeared to take their places. He had sent half their number back towards the train's engine at one point to try and make their way outside, hoping to make an end run around the Death Eater position. He even thought they had succeeded when he both felt and heard a terrific explosion echo from somewhere further down the train, but that hope was soon dashed as the men returned from the same direction they had left. Out of the six he had sent, only two made it back, carrying a third unconscious between them. Apparently the Death Eaters had set up similar positions in the engine car for just such an attempt. And with the two -now three- men that he had lost here, that left him dreadfully short on resources.

"Any more ideas," Tonks asked him from across the hall. He noticed that she was breathing nearly as hard as him, and she was more than thirty years younger, so he decided he shouldn't feel too bad about his own lack of stamina.

"Nothing," he replied casually as he ducked out to fire off another spell, "you?"

Tonks fired a spell of her own before lifting her gaze thoughtfully.

"I suppose I could always take off my shirt," she suggested, a cheeky grin on her face. "I don't know how it works on Death Eaters, but I've certainly never failed to shock a man into submission with that before." His good eye stared at her for a long, hard moment before he burst into laughter, which was quickly followed by loud coughing and wheezing.

"I like it, but let's call that plan D."

He felt a sudden shift in the air then. He couldn't quite describe it, but it reminded him of the feeling he got in his knee just before a big thunderstorm appears. His magical eye, which had never left their opponents who were cowering behind cover, suddenly saw them begin to withdraw, backing away slowly while firing spells in their general direction to prevent them from interfering. He saw the first man turn and run out of the back door just as he heard a loud crack and a scream. The man's partner, who was still firing spells towards Moody's group, turned to look over his shoulder before closing the door and ducking down behind the nearest cover.

"Sorry my friend," Moody chuckled softly, "but that's not going to save you."

He saw through his eye as the door to the car exploded outward, ripped from its hinges and spinning off into the rapidly thinning fog that covered the area. He saw the man trembling with fear, his wand pointed at the open doorway. Then he saw as the man flew up and slammed hard into the ceiling. Twice more he flew and on the third impact he dropped his wand, where it rolled under a nearby seat.

The Death Eater fell at that point, and as soon as he hit the ground he began to slide backwards towards the open door. They all heard the man's terrified screams as he grabbed a hold of the doorframe, hanging on for dear life. He held on for several agonizing seconds, fingertips grasping…and then he was gone, swept away into the fog, his screams echoing in the cramped train car. Moody smiled and stepped into the nearly destroyed hallway, walking casually towards the back of the car.

"Sir, what was that," Tonks said nervously.

"I know that you're young," he said with a smile, "so I'm sure you've never seen it before, but I have, and I can almost guarantee you that we'll have a straight path to the Potter boy."

"What is it I haven't seen sir?"

Moody's smile grew, "An angry Albus Dumbledore."

Harry smiled widely at Ginny, breathing deeply of the relatively clean air he had inside the effects of his bubble-head charm. She smiled right back through her own bubble, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Great idea Gin, this is much better."

"Thanks," she said, "glad to be of service. Won't do us much good if we burn to death though." She said it casually, but Harry knew that this was becoming a very real possibility. The fire had begun on either side of them and was quickly working its way deeper into the forest, but it was undeniably closing in on them as well. Both had already used the Aguamenti charm to great effect, soaking the nearby area and delaying the encroaching flames by several minutes, but they both knew that such a blaze could not be held off indefinitely. Harry ducked his head around the tree they both leaned against, squinting to try to make out the Death Eaters through the smoke. He still held out hope that help would come in time, but he also knew that unless it came soon that they would be forced to try and fight their way out and even with their numbers reduced he didn't fancy the odds on taking down three adult wizards who were just lying in wait for them. Then a miracle happened.

"It's Dumbledore," a voice screamed from the train. "The apparition wards are down, everyone get out now!" The two Death Eaters who had retained their masks glanced at one another before quickly abandoning their position at the edge of the forest to gather their injured comrades.

"What are you doing," Lestrange snarled, whirling to face his comrades, "get back here."

"Did you not hear man, Dumbledore is here. This is over, it's time to retreat."

"No I will not accept that," he roared, "the boy is almost ours." One of the Death Eaters had created a portkey out of the shoe of one of the unconscious men and arrayed the injured around it. They each touched a hand to the softly glowing boot and in an instant they had all vanished, leaving the last Death Eater alone with Lestrange.

"Think Rodolphus, the boy will do you no good if you are captured before you can escape with him, and you know that you are no match for Albus Dumbledore. Our Lord has already freed you from Azkaban twice already my brother, he will not do so a third time." Lestrange looked as if he wanted to argue, but something of what he was being told must have made sense to him, for he simply nodded.

"Good," his companion sighed, clearly relieved that he had gotten through, "I will see you at headquarters." And with a crack he was gone. Rodolphus Lestrange breathed deeply, trying desperately to control his impulse to march into those trees and rip the Potter boy's heart from his chest. His eyes froze on the image of the scarlet train sitting so peacefully above him and a feral grin grew on his face. Maybe he could rip the boy's heart out after all.

"Potter!" he roared happily, knowing full well that the boy was watching him even now, hanging on his every word. "Your savior has arrived! Once again, saved by the mighty Dumbledore. He can't protect you forever boy. Before this war is over, I will watch happily as my master kills, but only after I have personally tortured and killed everyone that you have ever loved in front of you. In fact…before I go I think that I'll start right now." And with that he leveled his wand at the car that held Harry's friends, easily distinguishable by the massive hole in the side.

Harry had felt his stomach sink as the insane Death Eater had shouted his little speech. He leapt to his feet just as Lestrange raised his wand, ready to kill dozens of people purely out of spite.

"Stupefy!" Harry roared, his blood pounding in his ears. Time almost seemed to slow down for him; he watched the spell leave his wand, followed it as it flew unerringly towards its target, and saw as it slammed into the back of Rodolphus Lestrange, interrupting him before his spell could be cast and pitching him forward to land face first in the soft grass, unmoving.

Harry and Ginny both walked forward, eager to get away from the flames, but they were still cautious as they approached Lestrange. Stunned or not, they weren't taking any chances. Harry had just reached out a foot to prod the still form when he heard his name shouted nearby. He and Ginny both spun, their shaking wands held at the ready, but relaxed as they realized that it was Tonks who had shouted. The young witch hurried over to them, several other Aurors in tow.

"You two ok?" she asked, taking in their bloody and soot covered appearance. "Bloody hell Harry, what are you two doing out here?"

"Death Eaters threatened to start blowing up compartments if I didn't go with them," Harry replied with a shrug. "The only thing that I could think to do was to get off the train as fast as I could and lead them away so that no one could get hurt." Tonks eyed him appraisingly for several long moments.

"Officially," she said finally, "I'm supposed to tell you off for putting yourself in danger like that." She leaned in close so that the other Aurors, who were busy checking for signs of any Death Eater stragglers in the vicinity, could not hear. "Unofficially, I think what you did was damn brave. I may not like that you put yourself in danger, but you probably saved a lot of lives today Harry." Harry nodded his thanks at her words and then took a moment to examine her as she had Ginny and himself.

"You don't exactly look like you were on a picnic either," he said as he saw the numerous tears and burns on her robes. "What happened with you?"

And so she gave him a brief recounting of what had happened to her and the other Aurors since the attack had commenced, including the part about Dumbledore coming to their rescue.

"So he really is here?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Tonks replied with a laugh. "He was…hard to miss."

"So where is he?" She shrugged, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the train.

"Last I saw he was getting brought up to speed by Moody. We were supposed to keep looking for you and he said he was going to handle the fire." Harry snorted in disbelief at this. He couldn't imagine anyone "handling" this fire. What had started with a simple Incednio spell had now consumed everything green in sight, and he knew it would only continue to spread through the rest of the forest. "Ah there he is," Tonks said, up the hill towards the Hogwarts Express. And indeed as Harry turned to follow her gaze he saw the ancient wizard in his customary midnight blue robes.

He stood ramrod straight, but Harry watched as his arms raised and he began to sway. Harry could clearly see that he was saying some sort of incantation, but from this distance could not hear anything. From the fact that his lips continued to move however, Harry knew that it was a spell more complicated than any he had ever attempted. Then he felt it, a brief gust of wind that tousled his already messy hair playfully.

He had not noticed until just now how oppressively hot it was. The day had already been unusually warm for early September, but the massive inferno blazing nearby certainly did not help matters. Another breeze came, this one lasting longer than the first and Harry suddenly felt himself shivering involuntarily. It felt like ice cold water was being poured slowly down his back, invigorating him and soothing his aching muscles. Up above, Dumbledoe continued his spell casting, now moving even more vigorously than before as Harry felt the wind begin to pick up. Dark clouds began moving in rapidly from the west, passing overhead on their way to the still burning forest.

Harry finally realized what was about to happen moments before the clouds opened up and rain began pouring down upon them all. More rain than Harry had ever seen at one time fell in a massive torrential downpour, and already he could see the effect it was having as the nearest flames began to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller before finally flickering out. He turned to say something to Ginny, but stopped and smiled instead, staring at her. Her eyes were closed and her face was raised to the sky, her smile radiant as the heavy droplets dripped down her face one after another, carving flesh colored streaks through the soot and grime.

"Come on you two," Tonks said, shouting to be heard over the sound of the driving rain, "we need to get you inside. Dumbledore and Moody want us to get moving again as soon as possible so we can get everyone to Hogwarts. We'll be safe there." Harry nodded.

"Right. Oh, and don't forget about Lestrange here," he said with a nod towards the still unmoving figure at their feet. Tonks nodded and quickly used her wand to tie him up before kneeling down to search him for an emergency portkey or any other dangerous device.

"Hopefullly he stays in Azkaban this time," Harry said darkly as he and Ginny began to trudge their way up the steep, and now muddy, hill back towards the train.

"Harry," Tonks snapped, stopping him in his tracks, "you were the one that got him?" He turned and looked at her confused.

"Yeah. He was about to blow up one of the train cars because he was mad that he couldn't capture me, so I jumped out and stunned him. Why, what's wrong?" There was no mistaking the seriousness of her expression.

"He's dead."

_A/N: Thanks everyone for reading. I didn't expect this to take so long as it was finished at the same time as the last chapter, but as it turns out this one needed an extensive rewrite. Please feel free to leave me a review. Will do my best to update soonest._


	13. Chapter 12

Harry sat slumped in the small wooden chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, his eyes staring unfocused into space as he waited in silence and his mind lost in thought. The train had arrived at the Hogsmeade station almost an hour earlier, completely intact thanks to a quick bit of magic from Dumbledore repairing the hole Harry had made. Immediately Auror healers had begun levitating the most seriously injured onto the platform on conjured stretchers. An irate Madame Pomfrey was there to greet them, quickly shouting orders as she took charge of the situation and even the most senior healer among them, sensing perhaps that this was not a woman to be trifled with, followed her lead without question. By the time the remaining students had begun to disembark she was already heading back to the school, a grisly procession of bleeding and moaning stretchers behind her.

Harry himself had not even set both feet on the ground when he had been seized by Mad-Eye and Tonks, who ignored his friends' angry protests as they pulled him bodily across the platform and to the waiting school carriages. He did not say a word as he was placed into the lead carriage and sent on his way, simply sitting in silence as Hogwarts grew ever nearer. When the carriage had finally stopped and the door opened, he had not been surprised to find Professor McGonagall waiting for him, her expression fierce.

"This way Potter," she had said tersely before she turned and walked inside, Harry following silently behind her. Neither of them spoke as they followed the winding path up the castle stairs until they finally arrived at the gargoyle statue that he knew protected the Headmaster's office. "The password is Toffee, Mr. Potter. The headmaster requests that you remain in his office until he arrives."

And wait he had. For nearly an hour he had been waiting, sitting motionless in his chair as his thoughts swirled in torrents. The impending sense of doom he felt weighed down on him until he felt as if he had a Hagrid sized weight sinking into each shoulder. He had killed a man. There was no way around that fact.

He had even asked Tonks to check again when she had first told him, and she had humored him, but the result was unchanged. He had killed a man, a Death Eater yes, but still a human being and he knew that there was only one punishment that the law would allow. The depths of his contemplations were such that he did not even notice the headmaster's approach until the old man placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. Harry jerked out of his stupor at the sound of the headmaster's voice, leaping to his feet as Dumbledore shuffled past him to collapse wearily into the high backed chair behind his desk. "Please my boy, sit down." Harry complied but still did not speak, his eyes boring a hole into the hard wooden floor. "I am sure that you will be delighted to hear that none of your schoolmates will suffer any permanent injury due to this afternoon's events. The majority have already been tended and healed by Madame Pomfrey and the Auror healers, and the few that required additional treatment have already been transported to St. Mungo's." Harry's eyes had finally risen to meet Dumbledore's own at the mention of the other students, his expression one of abject relief.

"What about the Death Eaters," he asked softly. Dumbledore adjusted the spectacles perched on his long nose before replying.

"Many of them were able to escape when I removed their anti-apparition ward. It is unfortunate, but ultimately I believe that it could not be helped. I had to tear down their wards in order for more Auror reinforcements to be brought in, and the safety of my students is far more important than apprehending Death Eaters. Never the less, four have been apprehended and are in custody at the Ministry where they will be interrogated and stand trial. Five Death Eaters were killed in the attack, as were six Aurors. Kingsley arrived just a few minutes ago with a team to return their bodies to the Ministry." Harry nodded.

"So I expect they should be along any moment for me then."

"For you?" Dumbledore asked, frowning in confusion, "Whatever do you mean my dear boy?"

"Well, I mean…Professor I killed that Death Eater."

"Ah," Dumbledore said as understanding dawned on him, "I see now why you look so distraught. You have been thinking this whole time that I asked you to wait here so that the Aurors could cart you off to Azkaban? No my boy, I am sure that you will be staying here with us for quite some time." Harry leaned forward in his seat, his voice choked with emotion.

"Sir…I killed someone. I don't think your reputation or mine would let the Ministry overlook that."

"Quite right you are my boy, nor would I expect them to. Ms. Tonks approached Professor Moody and myself as soon as the Hogwarts Express was underway once more and advised us of the situation. It was decided that it would be in your best interest to investigate immediately. The man in question is being examined at St. Mungos as we speak, and an investigator with the Auror office is obtaining a memory of the event from Ms. Weasley. They will want to view your own memory of course to confirm, but it is merely a formality. I have already heard Ms. Weasley's recounting of what happened and I truly believe it to be nothing more than a tragic accident."

"But I killed him…does that make me like _him_?"

Dumbledore smiled sympathetically at the obviously conflicted young man whose face couldn't seem to decide between shame and relief. _Curse you Tom,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _Curse you for forcing someone so young to bear this burden._

"Harry, did you mean to kill this man?" Harry swelled with indignation as the Headmaster's words slammed into him with the force of a bludger.

"Of course not!"

"Then what happened was not your fault. My guess is that the late Mr. Lestrange simply had a weak heart and your stunning spell set off a massive heart attack. Such a thing is not unheard of. Magic, my dear boy, is not infallible. But ask yourself something Harry: knowing now that your actions would result in his death, would you go back and do things differently if you could?" Harry sat silently for several moments as he considered the headmaster's words. The answer that came to him was surprisingly easy.

"No," he answered, his voice strong with conviction.

"Really?" Dumbledore asked with raised eyebrows. "And why not?"

"Because there was no time to act any differently. He was an evil man about to murder dozens of innocent people, including my best friends, just because he was angry at me. If I had stopped to think even for a second, or tried to think of some other spell to use, he might have succeeded. I couldn't take that chance, not with so many lives at stake. I'm not sorry that he's dead…but I hate that I had to be the one to kill him." Dumbledore nodded sagely.

"And that, my dear boy, is why you will never be like Voldemort." Dumbledore could have laughed at the look of utter relief he saw break out on Harry's face, but instead he merely smiled serenely. "And now Harry, it is very late. I will instruct you briefly in how to remove one's memories for viewing in a pensieve so that I can have it ready for the investigator tomorrow, and then you should be getting off to bed. The feast, such as it was, is long over, but I can have one of the elves deliver something to your common room-"

"No."

Dumbledore blinked slowly, not used to being interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We had a deal. You told me that after the feast you would tell me everything. Like you said, the feast is now over."

"Yes, well," Dumbledore coughed uncomfortably. "I did give my word, but surely under the circumstances another time would be more-"

"Professor," Harry interrupted for a second time, "please." Dumbledore sighed heavily as he looked into the desperate pleading azure orbs of the Boy Who Lived. Rather than reply he simply clapped his hands once, sharply. A sharp crack announced the arrival of a house elf.

"What can Wemble do for master Dumbledore?"

"A light dinner for myself and young Harry here. Tea as well if you please; we will likely be here for some time." The elf bowed and with another crack was gone. "We will still begin with teaching you the basics of memory recovery for the pensieve if you do not mind Harry. The investigator will need it to clear you of any wrong doing and it is a rather useful skill if I do say so myself."

The process of extracting the memories was actually fairly simple, Harry discovered. Within minutes he found himself pulling his wand away from his head, a long silvery strand dangling from it. Disgustingly it reminded him very much of when his wand had been covered with troll bogies in his first year. As he released the thin stream into the labeled vial that Dumbledore had provided, he heard yet another crack and saw a large table set for two appear in the center of the room, its surface covered with various dishes.

"Ah splendid," Dumbledore said happily, quickly moving to a seat and motioning for Harry to do the same. "I must confess that in dealing with the aftermath of the day's events I was unable to join the students for their feast. As a result I am quite famished, so dig in." The headmaster proceeded to do just that and Harry sat hesitantly across from him looking deeply concerned.

"Not that I don't appreciate this sir, but-"

"Please Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "do not think that I am trying to avoid your questions. I have told you I will tell you everything and I will, but I see no harm in doing so on a full stomach." Harry considered arguing for a moment, feeling desperately impatient to discover what the Headmaster had learned from his inquires, but finally nodded his acceptance and reached for a nearby plate of chicken. "I had always planned to speak to you about this you know," Dumbledore stated casually as he spooned a large portion of roasted potatoes onto his plate. "I was working carefully, slowly so as to not draw any attention, and when I had the evidence I needed I was going to present it to you piece by piece so that you could digest it, absorb it, and truly understand it."

He chuckled softly. "Ever the teacher, always looking for an opportunity for a student to learn. But you may save your anger Harry; I know that this is no longer possible." Dumbledore leaned forward, his jovial demeanor replaced by a seriousness that sent a chill down Harry's spine. "I want to tell you a story Harry. A story about Lord Voldemort…and his immortality."

For the next few hours Harry sat quietly, watching and listening with rapt attention as Dumbledore revealed to him through the pensieve glimpses of Voldemort's ancestry and parentage, shadows of the handsome and charming young Head Boy who had won so many hearts at Hogwarts, and finally told him of the true horror of what young Tom Riddle had become. He felt a growing sense of despair as he realized that as long as these soul fragments, these Horcruxes existed, Lord Voldemort could not die.

"Seven," Harry whispered gravely, still attempting to process the vast amount of information that had just been revealed to him. "Sir, do you really think that he made seven Horcruxes?" Dumbledore nodded his head.

"Yes Harry, I do…but I do not believe that he intended to do so." Harry looked puzzled at this crytic comment but Dumbledore continued before he could interrupt. "But after everything that you have learned here tonight, does it truly surprise you to learn that Tom Riddle would do something so horrific? His ego would find the idea far too appealing to resist I fear. I am also supremely confident in the contents of that memory Harry. It was the most difficult of all of these to procure, and the methods I used to obtain it I am not proud of, but it means that I am most certain of its accuracy." Harry leaned back wearily, sipping slowly at a steaming mug of tea as he stared across the long since cleared off table at Dumbledore.

"So what are they," he asked finally, "do you know?"

"I have my suspiscions," Dumbledore answered guardedly, "and they are very strong suspiscions. At his time however the only one that I can be reasonably certain of is the diary that possessed Ms. Weasley in your second year." Harry recoiled, taken aback at the idea that Ginny had been possessed not just by a memory of Voldemort, but by a chunk of his soul. "I have examined it thoroughly since the incident and can confirm that there is no lingering magical presence; you appear to have done a rather thorough job in that regard. That does not mean however that the object is inert. The level of magic that still permeates the object, even years now after its destruction tells me that it was no ordinary magical artifact. You might also be wondering why I chose to show you the memory of Riddle's meeting with Ms. Smith."

Harry's eyes widened as he made the connection. "The cup and the locket!"

"Very good Harry," Dumbledore said with a wide smile, "In fact I believe it to be quite likely that these were the first objects after the diary he used as Horcruxes. And given his penchant for the grandiose and his belief in his own superiority, I would not be surprised if he sought out other founders artifacts for his Horcruxes. Though I do have to admit that I have also long suspected his snake, Nagini, as well."

"You can turn an animal into a Horcrux?"

"Oh yes indeed, though it would be very dangerous; entrusting a piece of your very soul to something that can move and think on its own. Very few would risk such a thing Harry, very few."

"Then why would he do it?" Harry asked, curious.

"Why indeed my boy," Dumbledore muttered, "why indeed. My suspicions on this matter were first raised when you saw Arthur attacked last year. The fact that you saw this vision through Nagini's eyes, rather than through your own or even Voldemort's was the clue. An ordinary wizard could never posses his familiar in such a way, and while we both would agree that Voldemort's magic is above the ordinary, that is still not something that I would have believed possible."

"But if the snake already held a piece of his soul…" Harry reasoned. Dumbledore gave him another proud smile, clearly pleased that Harry was keeping up so well.

"Precisely."

"But they could be anywhere in the world," Harry said, dismay evident in his voice, "How will we ever find them all?"

"I am glad to hear that you comprehend the gravity of the situation," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "And here you have hit upon the crux of the matter, as I believe that in the end, the where will matter much more than the what. But you are forgetting the depths of Lord Voldemort's arrogance Harry. In the same way that he would never be content to use a ratty sock or an old potion bottle as a guardian for a piece of his precious soul, I do not believe that he would leave something so important to him buried in an empty field or on the shelf of his pantry." Harry's brow furrowed in concentration.

"So the for the same reason that you think he used the founder's artifacts you think he also chose hiding places that he would consider just as important."

"Precisely!"

Harry sunk backwards into his seat, the lateness of the hour and the magnitude of the information he was being given finally beginning to weigh on him.

"Well sir," he finally sighed, rubbing at his forehead, "what do we do now?"

"Well I believe that it is about time for you to be getting to -"

"You know what I mean Professor." Dumbledore smiled ruefully.

"Yes I suppose I do. For now Harry, you will do nothing. You will go to class, socialize with your friends…be a teenager."

"Professor you can't be serious," Harry objected loudly as he leaned forward in his seat, all feelings of fatigue forgotten. "First you tell me that I'm destined to fight Voldemort, and now you tell me that he's bloody immortal, and now you want me to just go to class like nothing's happened! I'm sorry sir I just can't do that anymore, I need to be ready for what's coming."

"What precisely do you mean by that Harry?" Dumbledore asked casually, resting both elbows on the arms of his chair as he leaned back slowly and sipping carefully at his steaming mug.

"I mean that I can't keep going to class and pretending that everything is normal! Ever year that I've come to this school, someone or something has tried to kill me. And I don't know if it's just pure luck, but every single time I've managed to escape by the skin of my teeth. Others," he said softly, hanging his head, "others weren't so lucky."

"So you wish to fight in this war?" Dumbledore asked softly, his tone neutral.

"Professor I'm already fighting in this war, can't you see that? You said it yourself last year when you told me about the prophecy; it doesn't matter what I do, even if I ignore the prophecy Voldemort won't. He is not going to stop until I am dead. Whether I put any stock into prophecies, or destiny, or fate doesn't matter, what matters is that he believes it. As long as I am alive, he sees me as a threat to his power and he will come after me and everyone I care about. I'm sick of being helpless sir."

"Understandable. What of the little 'study group' that you so admirably lead last year? You and the students under your tutelage scored the highest scores in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the school. If you wish to practice your defense techniques that would surely be a suitable place?" Harry was shaking his head before Dumbledore even completed his sentence.

"No, I'm not talking about practicing my shield charm or brushing up on my stunning spell sir. What I need is the kind of thing that you can't learn from a book. I need someone to teach me. Please." He stared desperately at the implacable figure of the Headmaster, who still sat motionless as he stared at Harry over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very well," he said emotionlessly, his face still a stone mask. "It is extremely late Harry, and I am quite sure that your friends have been anxiously awaiting your arrival in your common room, so you really must be off to bed now.

"But sir -" Dumdbledore raised a placating hand.

"Please Harry, I have already agreed to your request. We will speak more on the subject in the near future, I promise you, but for now there is nothing else to discuss." Harry opened his mouth to argue again, ready with a fresh round of arguments as to why Dumbledore should agree, but closed it just as quickly as he realized that he had actually said yes.

"Thank you sir," he stammered, still in shock as he stood and walked to the door.

"Oh and Harry?"

"Yes sir?"

"While it goes without saying that this is highly sensitive information that cannot be thrown about casually, I think it would be prudent to bring your friends Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley into your confidence. I also think that you should tell them about the prophecy." Harry froze, his hand clutching the doorknob in a death grip.

"I…I didn't want -"

"-to worry them? Or perhaps you are simply worried yourself that they might abandon you when they find out?" Harry did not reply, his bowed head revealing the truth. "You do your friends a disservice by not confiding something this important to them. I have known Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley for as long as I have you Harry, and I am confident that they will surprise you if you give them the chance. You need your friends Harry; perhaps even more than you know."

"Are you going to force me to tell them?"

"No, I am not."Harry whirled, shock evident on his face. "You are fast becoming a man Harry, even a blind person could see that, and a rather extraordinary man at that. I have offered you my opinion on the matter and that is the last you will hear of it. The burden is now upon you to decide what is right for you." Harry was once again silent, contemplating the headmaster's words.

"I recognize the great ordeal you have been through today Harry. You are hereby excused from your morning classes tomorrow. Do not worry; I will speak to your teachers. Please, get some rest. Goodnight."

Harry walked slowly forward, his eyes fixated on the portrait of the Fat-Lady hanging directly ahead. He knew now that the Headmaster had been right, it was time to tell his friends the truth. That realization did not however make him and less terrified, and he had found himself walking more slowly the closer he came to Gryffindor tower.

What he had come to realize though with each shuffling step was that in hiding this from his friends, he had been selfish. They had a right to know that their best friend was a marked man and that continued association with him could get them hurt. Honestly it was for the best that they know now so they could begin distancing themselves from him. He simply ignored the icy knife that thought drove into his guts as he stepped up to the portrait and knocked loudly on the frame.

"Hello…excuse me… audentes fortuna iuvat!"

"Alright already," the roused portrait groaned, "you don't have to shout. Shouldn't you be in bed young man?"

Ignoring her question he stepped into the Gryffindor common room, still dimly lit by the rapidly dwindling fires, but jerked to a stop, a smile wide upon his face. In front of the fireplace sat his friends, all of them holding mugs of hot chocolate and all of them fast asleep. It was obvious they had been doing anything they could to stay awake and wait for him judging from the pile of exploding snap cards scattered about in front of them, but it was a task that they had obviously failed. Not that he blamed them after a day like today.

Ginny and Neville sat on a large couch, each of them curled up in their own corner sleeping soundly, obviously exhausted. When he saw Ron and Hermione however he couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. Hermione sat in a large cushy armchair, a blanket pulled over her, likely by Ron, and her head resting comfortably on the arm of the chair. Ron on the other hand sat on the floor in front of her, where he had obviously been engaged in the game when he had fallen asleep. What was interesting though was that in his sleep he had rolled onto his side and was currently clutching at Hermione's leg, nuzzling it as he lay in the grip of an obviously pleasant dream.

Harry sat as carefully as he could in the gap between Neville and Ginny, not wanting to disturb anyone. He knew that he still had to tell them, and he would…tomorrow. For now he would just lay here and enjoy the presence of his friends. Within moments, he was sound asleep.


	14. Chapter 13

"Harry!"

Harry's first sensation when he awoke was of being squeezed in a vice like grip while simultaneously being smothered in brown bushy hair. There were worse ways to wake up he knew; after all he had experienced several of them, but after only a few hours of sleep he felt like death warmed over and was in no mood. He patted the distraught Hermione gently on the back, hoping it would encourage her to let go. It didn't. _Merlin's beard, has she been taking lessons on how to do this from Mrs. Weasley? _

"Give him some room Hermione," Ginny called out from her position on Harry's left as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Hate to see him survive the Death Eaters just to be crushed in his own common room."

Hermione huffed indignantly but to his relief she released him, crossing her arms as she stepped back and glared at Ginny.

"I'm just happy to see him, there's nothing wrong with that. After everything that happened yesterday I think that I'm entitled to be a little emotional."

"Nothing wrong with emotional Hermione," Neville threw in as he stretched on Harry's other side, "but you were the one who was speculating all night about what Harry was doing. Now that he's finally here one would think that you'd just ask him instead of suffocating him." Hermione stamped her foot in frustration.

"You make it sound as if I was the only one worrying! You were all sitting right there with me!" Ginny waved her comments away as she twisted her neck, which emitted an audible pop.

"Don't get so defensive Hermione. We were just taking the piss, no need to get your knickers in a twist." The youngest Weasley, now more alert, turned and crossed her legs facing Harry on the couch. "So what happened yesterday? Moody and Tonks just kind of took off with you, wouldn't tell us a thing. We looked for you at the feast but obviously you weren't there, and we started to think…." She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "Anyway, forget all of that, tell us what happened. Were you with Dumbledore?"

Before he could even reply a shout echoed through the room.

"Ronald Weasley!"

The lanky redhead, who had still been fast asleep on the common room floor, practically leapt to his feet, trying desperately to smooth his messy bed hair whilst simultaneously rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Yes Mum! I'm up, I'm up," he stammered hastily. Neville and Harry both chuckled as Ginny laughed uproariously, nearly falling off of the couch in her hysterics. Ron blinked in confusion. "Wait...Hogwarts? So no mum? Well then who-"

"I did Ron," Hermione said, "and it's no more than you deserve. I swear you would sleep through every class if you didn't have Harry to prod you out of bed." Ron didn't even seem to hear her, so busy was he staring at her in abject horror.

"But…but you sounded just like Mum."

"So?"

"So! So that's absolutely bloody terrifying that - wait, Harry?" He turned to stare over at the couch, finally noticing Harry's presence. "Harry you're back! Bloody hell mate you gave us a scare; we thought the Ministry might try and lock you up after what-"

"That's quite enough out of you Ron!" Ginny snapped, her glare shutting Ron's mouth instantly. "Harry was just about to tell us what happened, weren't you Harry?"

"Uhh…."

_Just do it. You know they deserve to know the truth. And if they decide that you're too dangerous to be around anymore well…that's probably for the best anyway right? At least then they'll all be safe. Just grow a pair of bollocks and say it!_

"Not now I think," he said, trying to sound casual as he mentally berated himself for every word. "From the looks of things outside people should be waking up soon."

"They already did," Hermione interrupted him, crossing her arms impatiently "while you were all sleeping. That's what woke me up is everyone coming downstairs; the four of you just slept through it like rocks."

"It's time for breakfast then," he offered helpfully. "We don't want to miss our class schedules, do we?"

"Actually we already have them."

"What?" the others exclaimed, staring at her in confusion.

"Well that's what mine was at least," she replied as she pointed at a neat little pile of envelopes stacked on the nearby table, "along with a letter from Dumbledore excusing me from class this morning. I would imagine that the others are the same." She turned back to glare at Harry. "So we have all morning to talk. Dumbledore even said that he would be having breakfast delivered."

Ron practically dived for the letters, rifling through them until he found one addressed to him and ripping it open gleefully.

"Bloody hell, she's right! We've got the whole morning off this says; only have to go to the two classes after lunch. Charms and Defense! Apparently he feels we deserve a bit of a lie in after going to such extraordinary lengths to protect the students of this school. Don't know about all that, but I'm always up for not having to go to class."

Ginny and Neville's letters were the same, and they all looked at Harry questioningly.

"There isn't one here for you mate," Ron said. "Surely he's not making you go to class but not us?"

"No, he told me about it last night when I left his office last night."

"So you were there," Hermione said triumphantly, "I thought so. Of course it only makes sense that after what happened Dumbledore would want to get you into the castle and somewhere safe right away. Who knows if the Death Eaters had a second attack planned in Hogsmeade. But you were there so late; hours after the students had been sent to bed. What were you two talking about?"

Harry cursed silently. Sometimes having the smartest witch in the school for a best friend had its disadvantages. Dumbledore had certainly kept his word about not forcing Harry to tell his friends anything, but he certainly wasn't going to make it easy on Harry if he decided not to take the old man's advice. He wondered where the conviction he had felt last night had gone, because no matter how many times he told himself that the time had finally come to reveal his secret, he just couldn't seem to make his mouth form the words.

Then he felt a small, delicate hand brush his shoulder comfortingly and he turned, finding Ginny's eyes with his own.

"Harry," she whispered comfortingly, as if she could sense his inner turmoil, "whatever it is, it doesn't matter. We can help you. Whatever it is, just let it go." He felt his resistance, the wall he had built around this terrible secret, crumbling and in a torrential outpour it all came out.

First he repeated the prophecy as he had heard it, word for word, leaving nothing out. He could hear Hermione's horrified gasp and he knew she had already deduced it's meaning, as he had known she would. Even Ron looked shaken as he sank back into an oversized armchair, his face scrunched up in thought. He knew that he could have stopped there; that after what he had told them they would not push him for more. But now that he had started he couldn't seem to stop, and the words just kept flowing, spilling out of him like a flood. Well over an hour passed, and no one even reacted when a soft pop announced the arrival of a school elf with a cart of food, not even Ron. Not having Dumbledore's pensieve or the memories he had collected made things more difficult, but Harry did the best he could, searching deep in his memories for every scrap of detail he had been told, every secret that had been revealed.

And as he shared them one by one, he began to feel lighter, lighter than he had in weeks, months even. Since he had first learned of the prophecy he had felt the weight of this terrible secret pressing down upon him, and he had felt as if he were suffocating. No matter what he was doing, even on his best day spent having fun with the Weasleys he always felt the secret in the back of his head, lurking. Regardless of what happened next, regardless of how his friends reacted, he finally felt as if he could breathe. Perhaps it was the relief he felt that was the cause, but the response he received when his tale finally came to a close came as a complete shock to him.

"Bloody hell mate, it never ends with you does it?" Hermione, who had been trying futilely to stop the flow of tears that had been steadily streaming since Harry had first revealed the prophecy, turned at once and slapped Ron across the back of the head.

"Ow! Watcha do that for!"

"For being an insensitive git Ronald," she shouted, still visibly distraught. "Our friend tells us that he is destined to face down the most evil and powerful dark wizard in history, who by the way happens to be immortal, and you act like it's his fault!"

"Hey that's not fair, I didn't say that!" He turned to Harry as if to reassure him. "I didn't mean it like that at all mate. I just meant…well damn just look at the last five years. Not a year goes by that something isn't trying to kill you, and us too most of the time. The year wouldn't be complete without someone or something looking to do us all in, right?"

"Oh that is so typical of you Ronald," Hermione huffed, "always trying to make everything into a joke. But this is serious; Harry's life is at stake here."

"I know it's serious," Ron objected, but Hermione ignored him, her mind already working at light speed.

"We have to get started right away," she muttered, pacing in front of the couch where Harry still sat. "I'll need to get to the library first thing and begin researching these Horcruxes. I'm sure that there won't be anything on that sort of magic in the books in this school, even in the restricted section, but maybe I can get a lead on what other objects Voldemort may have chosen. Ginny I could really use your help there; trying to get this lot to sit down and read is like trying to stuff a ferret into a shoe box."

Unlike Hermione, Ginny had not been crying, and in fact had not made a sound for over an hour, but she nodded emphatically, her face a stony mask. "Excellent! And Harry, you need to begin practicing your Defense again right away. Have you set a night for the first DA meeting yet? You are going to restart it of course; after learning this it's more important now than ever. Although I'm not sure you can really learn enough just teaching us students though, perhaps Dumbledore could get members of the Order to come and tutor you? Well say something!"

"Well, I mean, I hadn't thought too much about the DA yet," Harry, whose head was spinning as he tried to process her rapid fire questions, replied. "I told Neville on the train that I'd be starting it back up though. And I already spoke to Dumbledore about…hold on, wait just a minute." He stood up, gazing at each of them in turn in utter bewilderment. "Didn't any of you hear what I said? Voldemort is going to try and kill me!" The four of them looked at one another in confusion.

"Mate," Ron began slowly, speaking as if Harry had just stood up and insisted that the sky was blue, "I don't mean to sound rude but…what else is new?" Harry just blinked and slowly sank back down, unsure of how to respond to that. "Like I said, something has happened every year since we started at this school that's nearly killed one or all of us. I mean after everything that's happened between you and V-V…..Voldemort, we didn't exactly think that either of you would just let it go. To be honest, me and Hermione have kind of been expecting something like this since he got his body back. We didn't know about the creepy prophecies and trinkets that grant immortality of course, but that doesn't really change much, does it."

"But…but," Harry sputtered in objection, "you heard what the prophecy said. It's got to be me or him in the end, one of us is going to die."

"Yeah, and if we have anything to say about it sure as hell won't be you," Ron told him flatly. "I mean, the prophecy says it has to be one of you, but it doesn't say which one does it? And that means that you have a chance right? It means that you can beat him."

"What did you think was going to happen when you told us Harry?" Hermione asked gently. "That we would be so frightened that we would abandon you; stop being your friends?" Harry said nothing but his glowing crimson face revealed his embarrassment. Hermione knelt down before him and touched his arm softly. "Oh Harry…"

"I ought to kick you right in the bollocks for that one mate," Ron growled as he towered over Harry. "I know I don't have the best track record when things get tough, but I told you back home…we're your friends and we're sticking with you until the end. So suck it up and get used to it."

Harry felt a warm glow in his chest as he heard from his best friends what he had been secretly hoping – and dreading – to hear since the night Sirius had died.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice choked with emotion. "And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

"No worries mate," Ron said, waving his apology away as he glanced at the grandfather clock that stood on one side of the room. "It's getting late though; lunch in ten. We need to get going so we aren't late for afternoon class. Hate to spoil such a lovely, uneventful morning with detention."

"But Ron," Hermione objected as he gently grasped her shoulder and began herding her toward the portrait hole, "we don't really need lunch. I should really head down to the library for a bit before class and get started making a list of possible books to check…"

"Later Hermione, you can do that later. Right now I need food, and so do you." They stepped through the portrait hole, with Ginny still stone faced and uncharacteristically silent as she followed behind them. Harry moved to follow as well, but stopped when he realized that Neville was still sitting in an over sized armchair his eyes staring blankly into space.

"Neville," Harry called quietly, "you coming?" The round faced young man finally stood and turned, walking slowly towards Harry until he stopped only a few short inches away. He stared openly into Harry's eyes, and Harry found himself taken aback at the open fear he saw there…along with a touch of sadness.

"Look Neville," he began hesitantly, "this was a lot to take in. I'm sorry for dumping it on you like that; I should have asked if you wanted to leave before I started in, but it just sort of came out-"

"It could have been me," Neville interrupted, his voice soft but steady. Harry paled at his words. How had Neville known? He remembered all too well that Neville was the only other person who could have been a part of the prophecy according to Dumbledore, but he had never intended for him to find out. "The Longbottoms are an old family," he continued, his voice cracking just a bit, "steeped in tradition and nobility if you listen to my Gran tell it. We hold, or at least held, a traditional seat in the Wizengamot, helping to shape the future for all wizard kind. You saw my parents last year, and my dad was an only child, so I'm the last remaining member of the Longbottom family capable of carrying on our name.

Ever since I can remember my Gran has been drilling me about our family history as well as politics, trying to groom me for the day I would take my family's seat and restore our honor. I always hated those lessons. But the only thing I do remember is the stuff she taught me about my dad. She was so proud of him, her only child and all that, and she would sometimes lose herself and just go on and on about the things that he accomplished. So I know that my parents barely escaped attacks by Voldemort three times. And I certainly know when my own birthday is. I know everyone around here thinks I'm useless, but I can count. About the only part of that prophecy that doesn't apply to me is being marked by Voldemort. So am I right Harry?"

"Yes, it could have been you," Harry answered with absolute honesty. "But it wasn't. The final part of the prophecy required Volemort to mark the person as his equal. That's what this was," he said, pulling aside the messy fringe of his hair and pointing at his forehead. Neville stared openly, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Harry, your scar is gone!"

"What? Oh, yeah, that happened this summer. It's a long story, I'll tell you later. The point is Neville that it could have been you, but it wasn't. For whatever reason Voldemort chose me and started all of this, and now it's me who has to finish it." Neville bit his lip, cutting off whatever he had been about to say in response.

"I'm sorry Harry, I really didn't mean to try to make this about me. That's not even the reason I really wanted to talk to you, it just kind of threw me for a loop when I realized. Really, I just wanted to say thank you." Harry frowned in confusion.

"Thank me for what?"

"For killing Lestrange." Harry felt like his blood was turning to ice in his veins. "I know you feel bad about it," Neville continued on, "that it was an accident. I can understand that, respect it even I guess. But I still had to say thank you. Ever since I was a kid those four have been the bogeymen that came for me in my dreams. And when they escaped…" he broke off, turning his head to hide the welling tears. "When they escaped they were all I could think about. I loved to tell myself that if I ever saw them I would duel them to the death or something, avenge my parent's honor. But then the Ministry happened and I just fell apart. I was so scared Harry, the whole time. I had the people who took my family away right in front of me, and I could barely manage to stay alive, much less avenge anyone. This whole summer it's been weighing on me. But then you did what you did and…I feel like this huge weight has been lifted from me knowing that one of them is dead. I think about Bellatrix now and I don't feel afraid anymore, just angry. So I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable Harry, but I had to say something; for my parents…and for me."

He held out his hand and Harry took it, unsure of what to say. The fiery look in Neville's eyes was nothing like the quiet, mild-mannered boy he had known since his first year. This Neville looked like he was ready to take on one of Hagrid's blast ended skrewts in a wrestling match. He tugged on Neville's hand and they fell into step together as they strolled toward the portrait hole.

"Just so you know Neville," he offered casually as they stepped into the corridor and began making their way to the Great Hall, "I don't think that you're useless. And if anyone else disagrees…tell them to piss off.


	15. Chapter 14

Lunch was a hurried affair. None of them but Ron had partaken of the breakfast the school elves had laid out for them, and that had only been a few pieces of bacon he had managed to nick when Hermione had been ranting, so all of them were feeling hunger pangs by the time they finally reached the Great Hall despite Hermione's protests. The Gryffindors immediately surrounded Harry, some wanting to know where they had been, others asking about the train. He managed to deftly parry all of their questions, citing his intense hunger, before finally taking a seat next to the others.

Every so often one of them would open their mouth to speak, before suddenly seeming to realize that they were surrounded by hundreds of gossiping students, some of whom were far too interested in seeing Harry dead. Then and there they all settled on a silent agreement to only discuss what they had just learned when they were far from prying ears.

After a quick trip back to the tower for their books, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville said goodbye to Ginny, who was still not really speaking to anyone, and made their way to Charms. They managed to slip in the door just as Professor Flitwick was stepping up onto the large stack of books he used as a podium at the front of the class.

Right away the whispers started, from both the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who made up the class. Fingers pointed discreetly, and a general buzz filled the room, causing Professor Flitwick to have to emit a loud BANG from his wand before everyone quieted down.

"That will be enough thank you. You four please take your seats." The four nodded and moved towards the last remaining group of seats near the back of the room. "Right then, welcome back one and all to your sixth year, and congratulations on achieving your OWL in Charms; I am delighted to see you all here. As you know however, passing your OWL was just the beginning. I won't lie to you, you face an extraordinary amount of work ahead of you if you intend to achieve an NEWT in this class, but I can also assure you that the reward is worth the effort. That being said, we are going to start very simply today. I have learned in my long years that quite a bit of knowledge can go flitting away from those young minds of yours over the summer holidays. So please, take out your wands, we are going to be reviewing today all of the basic household spells you were tested on in your OWL's last year. Come now, no time to waste, pair off."

The students were all smiles at this. Review meant no new material, which meant no homework for their first lesson. Considering what he had overheard Dean saying about the immense pile of work they had received from McGonagall that morning that could only be a good thing. Ron and Hermione decided to work together, so Harry paired up with Neville and the two of them began to look over the long list of spells to review that Flitwick had passed out.

"Oh come on this is too easy," Neville complained as he read the list, "even I remember all of this."

"Best get it over with quickly then," Harry replied with a shrug. "Here, let's pour a bit of ink onto this parchment so we can clean it." He tipped his ink bottle over, dumping a generous amount of the black liquid over the face of a blank piece of parchment. "Go first?"

"Please," Neville said with a grin, "be my guest." Harry nodded and pointed his wand at the ink-stained bit of parchment sitting motionless on his desk.

"Scourgify!"

Nothing happened. Harry blinked in confusion, a look shared by Neville.

"Scourgify!" he tried again, somewhat more forcefully this time. Again, there was no reaction, not even a twitch.

"Um, Harry," Ron said, sounding somewhat amused, "I hate to break this to you mate, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything." The lanky redhead slid over from where he had been practicing the same spell with Hermione and leaned down, peering closely at the stained parchment. "Nope still looks pretty dirty to me. Try it again though, I'll tell you if I see anything happen." Harry frowned in annoyance but complied raising his wand once again and shouting this time.

"Scourgify!"

The bright white bolt smashed into the parchment with terrific force, cracking the legs of the desk it rested on. The parchment itself simply disintegrated in a blinding flash and a puff of smoke, which as it dissipated revealed that the spell had also gouged several centimeters into the wood underneath. The entire class was coughing loudly, waving their arms in a vain attempt to keep the smoke away.

"Alright, alight," Professor Flitwick called out over the panicked shouting, "quiet please; everyone remain calm while I deal with this." The tiny man flicked his wand, blowing open a nearby window while a gentle but persistent breeze began pushing the cloud of smoke towards the open air. He hurried over to Harry, worry clear on his face. "Is everyone all right-Ahh!" His concerned question turned into a high pitched squeak as he caught sight of Ron's face.

"What," Ron asked, puzzled. Hermione had her hand over her mouth and was very obviously trying, and failing, to contain her laughter. Neville looked sympathetic while Harry just looked chagrinned. "What are you all staring at, I-" His voice trailed off as he finally reached up to feel his face, still covered in soot form his close proximity to the blast. But it wasn't what he did find that concerned him, but rather what he didn't. The explosion had managed to singe off both eyebrows, leaving his face completely clean shaven. His shocking red hair stood out in even more contrast now with the unveiling of even more pale white skin.

"Yes well, off to the hospital wing with you then," Flitwick suggested, clearly trying to hide his own amusement as well. "Mr. Potter, please accompany him if you would. And please, in the future, try to be more careful with your spellwork." The whole class burst into fits of raucous laughter as the pair left the room, a blush working its way up each of their cheeks.

"Sorry about all of this Ron," Harry offered weakly as they both sat on beds across from one another. When they had first arrived, Madame Pomfrey had assumed that Harry was to be the patient, and had practically wrestled him onto a bed before he was able to convince her that they had come for Ron rather than himself. One look at Ron's face had sent her own eyebrows reaching for the sky.

"Oh yes I see," she had said. Immediately she had gone to work examining Ron for any other injuries, but she still would not let Harry up from the bed. "I should have had you in here yesterday Mr. Potter," she had explained brusquely. "I have no idea why you weren't brought here along with the other students involved in the incident, but since you are here now you aren't leaving without a full examination."

And so the two of them had spent the rest of their class period sitting side by side as the irate healer poked and prodded them both. She had quickly provided Ron with a spoonful of potion which she assured him would have his eyebrows back within the day, but for Harry it had been test after endless test, until finally she had announced that she was done and that Harry was to wait while she performed a quick analyses. And since Ron would not even think of leaving Harry alone, especially to go back to a class he had already been humiliated in, he stayed as well. That class had finally ended a few minutes earlier however, and if Pomfrey did not hurry, they would be late to the next as well.

"S'alright mate," Ron answered him, shrugging off his apology. "I know it wasn't on purpose. Beats staying in class I suppose. Seriously though, how does it look? Is it really that bad?" He turned his head from side to side, and Harry tried not to wince at the two patches of barely there peach fuzz that was now semi visible where Ron's eyebrows had been. Luckily for Harry, Madame Pomfrey returned, saving him the trouble of coming up with a comforting lie.

"Well Mr. Potter, you are in remarkably good health all things considered. Your initial results show no negative side effects from the battle you fought, but some tests will not show any results for a day at least, so I will let you know if I discover anything pertinent. Back off to class with you both. I have taken the liberty of writing you a pass as you will almost certainly be a few minutes late."

Harry grabbed the pass from her with a hurried "Thank you" and took off, Ron right behind him. They both hurried through the halls as quickly as they could, desperate to not be late. Because despite the pass they had been given, their last class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and neither wanted to miss the big reveal of who this year's professor was going to be. After several minutes of hard running, both were panting hard and they both paused momentarily to straighten their robes and ties while trying to get control of their labored breathing. Finally, with a nod of readiness from Ron, Harry reached out and knocked loudly.

They heard nothing for several seconds, followed by a series of soft echoing footsteps that became progressively louder as they neared the door. Hearts pounding, they waited restlessly, desperately wondering who it would be until the door finally flung open, revealing the sneering visage of Professor Snape.

"Good afternoon," he drawled slowly, "so nice of you to join us."


	16. Chapter 15

_A/N I dislike short chapters, so the last one made me cringe a bit, but I felt the ending was just to good to pass up. As my way of apology, I give you the next chapter, much longer by the way, only a day later. Please send feedback in the form of a review._

_A/N 2.0 I attempted to upload this on 2/15 and did not see any problems from my end. However within thirty minutes of publishing the chapter I was unable to log back into the site; it appears they had some technical problems. I assume that this is the reason that all of you who are subscribed received an alert but could find no chapter. I apologize for the confusion, and hopefully this time the chapter will upload without incident.  
_

Snape's cold dark eyes stared down at them, his long hooked nose flaring with disdain.

"I believe that will be ten points each from Gryffindor for your tardiness."

"We have a note," Harry practically growled, using every ounce of self control he possessed to keep his flaring temper under control as he held up the missive from Madame Pomfrey. Snape glanced at it as if he were being handed a particularly disgusting bug before he snatched it from Harry's hand.

"Yes…so I see," he said disinterestedly as he shoved the note into the front pocket of his robes without so much as a glance. "Take your seats, I do not have all day."

Both of them shuffled past him into the silent classroom and into the desks that Hermione had saved for them near the back row. Ron was grumbling quietly under his breath, but Harry kept his mouth firmly shut, his lips pressing together so tightly that they turned white from lack of blood. He was furious at Snape, but even more so towards Dumbledore for not warning him ahead of time.

"As I was saying before I was interrupted by our new resident celebrities, who are apparently too good to go to class with the rest of you," Snape said disdainfully, "this is the beginning of your NEWT year. The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests are named so for a reason, and while some of you," he gave a small but noticeable look in Malfoy's direction, "I am sure will pass with flying colors, there are others that I question how they even managed to pass their OWLs." This time he did not even attempt to keep his gaze neutral; he stared directly at Neville, who started to cringe as if out of reflex before he seemed to catch himself, straightening in his seat and staring the greasy haired Potion Master dead in the eyes. Snape held the boy's gaze for several long, tense seconds before turning his attention back to the others.

"If I am not mistaken, this class has absolutely no experience with the casting of non-verbal spells. Today I will remedy that, as non-verbal spells are one of the most basic things that you will be tested on during your exams. But perhaps before you begin, a small demonstration is in order?" Harry growled softly before reluctantly climbing to his feet. He knew exactly who Snape would be selecting, and he didn't see the point in drawing things out any further by playing along with the other man's little game. "Ah, Mr. Potter," Snape intoned, a look of glee barely masked by his usually sneer, "how wonderful for our resident Dark Arts 'expert' to volunteer." Harry did not bother with a response as he trudged forward to stand across from Snape, just in front of the first row of desks.

"The rules are simply Mr. Potter, we shall take it in turns casting spells at one another. As the attacker you may use any non-lethal spell you see fit, but the spell must be cast without speaking. As the defender you will use only the basic Protego charm, which must be cast in equal silence. I shall be attacking first. Understood?"

"Wait," Harry responded, his brow furrowed, "you haven't explained how to-" Snape gave Harry no time to complete his question as he raised his wand and fired a small red bolt from the tip. Harry immediately raised his own wand to intercept, shouting _Protego_ in his mind. The tiny bolt of magic flew right past his outstretched wand and hit him dead center in his chest. His hand flew to the spot, a small hiss escaping him as his body registered the burning pain he now recognized as a fairly powerful stinging hex. Snape's face was as close to a smile as Harry had ever seen.

"Well, so much for the vaunted Chosen One." The Slytherins were all chuckling as Harry glared daggers at their Head of House.

"You didn't tell me how I was supposed to do it…sir."

"Would you like me to hold your hand while you learn Mr. Potter?" Snape sneered disgustedly. "An enemy would not coddle you while you try to cast your spell, and neither will I."

"Well sir, while I know it seems to be your usual teaching method, I cannot do something I've never done before if you don't tell me how!"

"Twenty points from Gryiffindor for your attitude Potter," Snape snarled. "The wand movements are no different from how you normally cast the spell. The difference is in your mind. The casting requires a certain amount of mental discipline and focus, which I know you are in short supply of, but do try a little harder next time."

Harry was nearly seeing red he was so angry, but he battered down his temper once more and tried instead to focus on Snape's directions, or at least what little he had given. Without warning he flung his wand hand toward Snape, shouting _Stupefy _in his head. Nothing happened. The Slytherins were nearly rolling out of their chairs with laughter now as Harry stood with wand pointed at their Professor in dramatic fashion. Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

"Is that really the best that you can do Mr. Potter? I truly expected more out of someone who single handedly saved the entire Hogwart's Express from destruction. Are you sure that's what really happened?" Harry was nearly trembling with rage at this point, but he still refused to give in, pressing down on his temper with everything that he had. "Well I suppose we really should give you one more chance to prove yourself. En Garde!"

Even with his slow reaction due to the seething anger he was trying desperately to control he was still able to raise his wand in time, and once again shouted the incantation in his mind. He thought he felt a slight pressure in his hand and thought it might actually work this time, but then felt the stinging bite of Snape's hex in his leg and lost his concentration, falling to one knee at the intense burning sensation he felt.

"Again? Such a shame. Perhaps you should consider that you are simply not cut out for this class Mr. Potter. As I said, this theory and in fact this entire course requires a mental discipline that you clearly lack." The Potion Master stalked closer, looking even more bat-like than usual as he swooped down upon the still kneeling Harry, lowering his voice till only the two of them could hear. "I hope now you see the folly of your ways Mr. Potter. Your lucky streak when it comes to surviving encounters with the Dark Lord seems to have left you with a mistaken impression that you are somehow better at defending yourself in a duel than fully trained Aurors and Death Eaters. You are not. Stop seeking out trouble Potter, before it catches up to you or your friends the way it did to dear Sirius."

Harry was already trembling with anger as Snape spoke, but at the mention of his dead godfather, Harry finally snapped. Even as Snape whirled away, his black cloak flashing out behind him as he stalked back across the classroom, Harry stood, his face a mask of pure rage. He raised his wand and pointed it straight at the retreating Snape's back, his hand steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The rest of the world seemed to lose focus for Harry, but he assumed that the Slytherins must have screamed a warning because Snape whirled suddenly, his eyes wide and alert. Harry felt the power welling up inside of him; felt his magic more acutely than he ever had before. Before he even said the words in his mind, he knew that the spell would not fail this time. _Expelliarmus!_ A bright blue jet of light flew from the tip of his wand with unbelievable speed, looking like a jagged bolt of lightning as it crossed the distance between himself and Snape in a blink of an eye.

Whatever else one could say about Severus Snape, he was no slouch in a duel. And after several years of falling victim to the pranks of the Marauders he had become very adept at defending himself from unexpected attacks. Even before Harry's spell left his wand Snape was reacting instinctively, throwing up the most powerful shield he could cast and enshrouding himself completely inside a sphere of protection. Harry's azure bolt slammed into that sphere with the power of a cannon. Snape's eyes widened as he felt the instant drain on his magic as it tried to keep the powerful spell from penetrating. To the Potion Master's credit, the spell never did crack his shield. Unfortunately for him though, his shield was not immune to the laws of physics.

As the powerful projectile impacted the shield it sought to penetrate it, but it also transferred a massive amount of kinetic energy. Snape, still safely ensconced inside of his shield, was thrown backwards as if he had been hurled by a giant and slammed into the classroom's far wall with bone crunching force, passing straight through the thick stone wall as if it were paper. The spell finally flickered and faded to nothing, its strength spent, but it meant very little to the hapless Snape, who fell heavily onto the polished stone floor and continued to slide, his shield depleted and his momentum carrying him into the far wall with a sickening thud. Harry stared in disbelief at the now unconscious professor through the rather large hole left in the classroom wall, horrified to see a steady trickle of blood flowing from the man's open mouth.

Instant pandemonium broke out. Most of the Gryffindor students found themselves hard pressed to contain snorts of amusement at seeing the teacher who had tormented them all for years finally be taken down a peg. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had managed to make it into the NEWT class however were all screaming in horror, aghast that a student had just attacked a teacher and, from their perspective, probably killed him. While Snape had always played favorites with Slytherin, his true animosity had always been towards Gryffindor and so the other houses could not understand why the Griffindors seemed to be laughing at the situation. The Slytherins of course were incensed, shouting at the top of their lungs that Potter had gone mad, and that they should all rush him before he killed anyone else. Of course, the ever pragmatic Slytherins showed no interest in being the first to lead such a charge. In fact of the handful of Slytherins in the class, all of them but Malfoy were steadily creeping back towards the far wall as they shouted, seemingly intent on putting as much distance as possible between themselves and Harry in case he decided it was time to settle any other old scores.

Harry heard none of it. He stood frozen in place as his mind struggled to catch up to what his body had just done. Dimly, in a small corner of his mind he was aware of Hermione, a calm in the storm of shouting voices, using a silencing spell to bring order to the room before she sent Neville off to fetch Professor McGonagall. A few minutes of tense silence passed, the angry Slytherins desperately trying to remove her spell, until Neville returned, a wide-eyed McGonagall in tow. She must have sent a message to Madame Pomfrey as soon as Neville had found her, because not a minute later the winded healer rounded the corner at a full sprint, wand at the ready. She immediately went to work, waving her wand over the unconscious potions master in a complicated pattern while simultaneously pulling a number of small vials from the pouch at her waist. It wasn't until Snape had been stabilized and Madame Pomfrey had levitated him away towards the hospital wing that the Deputy Headmistress entered the room, her usually stern face looking especially grim.

"It was Potter Professor," Draco Malfoy shouted as soon as she had lifted Hermione's spell, "he-".

"Thank you Mr. Malfoy," she said, cutting him off with a look. "Mr. Longbottom has already apprised me of the situation."

"But Professor…" Malfoy whined.

"That is enough Mr. Malfoy. All of you are excused. Please return to your dormitories until dinner begins. Reluctantly the students collected their belonging and shuffled slowly out the door, the Slytherins grumbling darkly about her letting Potter off while the rest seemed mostly concerned with overhearing the conversation that was sure to come, hoping to collect a bit of juicy gossip for the dinner tables tonight. Not that they needed any more; today's events would have the Hogwarts rumor mill abuzz for weeks to come. Ron, Neville and Hermione were last to leave, standing quietly in the doorway with the most pleading looks they could muster, but their Head of House would have none of it and shooed them sternly but gently into the corridor before she finally spoke to Harry.

"Mr. Potter," she asked softly. Harry did not respond, and in fact did not even seem to recognize that she had spoken. She reached out a hand tentatively to his shoulder, though she kept her wand firmly gripped in her other hand as she was unsure of how he would react to such contact. "Harry," she whispered. He jumped as if electrocuted and turned, meeting her eyes and she could see from the genuine shock playing out across his face that he had not been aware of anything that had been happening around him for the better part of ten minutes.

"Professor, I swear I didn't mean to," he insisted, his words coming out in an almost unintelligible rush. "I didn't even want to be up here, but he made me demonstrate something for the class, but then he wouldn't even tell me how to do what he was asking. He just kept hexing me and making fun of me for not being able to do it right, and…I don't know what happened, honestly. I just got so angry I tried to cast the spell without speaking again and it worked that time and it hit Snape and…" He paused momentarily, shaking his head. "All I used was the disarming spell, I swear. I don't know how this happened." He seemed so genuinely confused and upset that McGonagall had a hard time not simply taking him at his word and sending him back to his friends in their common room to calm down, but she knew that wasn't an option at this point. A Hogwarts professor had been seriously injured by a student, and during a class in front of more than a dozen witnesses as well. The proper forms had to be followed.

"I do not believe that you would do this intentionally Mr. Potter," she said gently, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible so as not to upset him further, "but this is out of my hands. We will go and speak with the Headmaster at once; if as you say this was nothing more than an accident, then you have nothing to worry about, alright?" Harry said nothing, but nodded halfheartedly and fell into step behind her as she exited the room, his head hung low.

"From what you have told me Mr. Potter, I am inclined to believe that this incident was nothing more than an unfortunate accident." Ablus Dumbledore found himself smiling at the sigh of relief that Harry let out as he slumped forward in his chair, rubbing his temples gingerly.

"Thank you sir."

"As I am sure you know however, I will have to speak with Professor Snape when he regains consciousness and hear his side of things." Harry looked back up at him, incredulous. "However I believe that there is a very simple way to clear this up without further escalation. If you will allow me to examine your wand, it will be a simple matter to determine the last spell it cast. If you did indeed use nothing more than a simple disarming charm, then there will be no way for anyone to suggest that this was anything more than an unfortunate accident."

Harry pulled his wand out from the pocket in his robes where he had stored it and held it across the desk without any hesitation. Even through his jumbled emotions, he could see that Dumbledore was trying to give him an ironclad defense from any ridiculous statements Snape might make about his actions. When he had first arrived in Dumbledore's office with Professor McGonagall, he had still barely been able to speak through his shock. But as Dumbledore had patiently coaxed his story out of him, Harry had felt himself growing angrier as he relieved the events of the afternoon. By this point, he was once more absolutely livid at Snape for his unprovoked insults and would do whatever it required to prove that he had not been the one who had started things.

Dumbledore took his wand and placed it on his desk before drawing his own, "Prior Incantato." A small puff of smoke drifted lazily from the end of Harry's wand before forming a strange shape that Harry did not recognize. "Well that settles that," Dumbledore said matter of factly before handing Harry his wand back. "In case you did not recognize it Mr. Potter, that was the runic symbol that represents the disarming charm. Can I assume Minerva that we can verify that Mr. Potter did not perform any other magic since the incident?" Professor McGonagall nodded.

"I believe so Albus. While I arrived some minutes after the incident occurred, Mr. Potter has certainly not performed any magic since my arrival on the scene. I will speak to a few of the students who were present this evening to confirm that Mr. Potter used no other spells until my arrival if that is acceptable?"

"Of course Minerva. Now, if you will excuse us I believe that Mr. Potter and I have a few other matters to discuss." She accepted the dismissal with a curt nod before she stood and turned to leave, patting Harry on the shoulder slightly as she left. The door was barely closed behind her before Dumbledore raised his wand once again, casting a series of locking and privacy spells and then turning his attention to Harry once again.

"My boy you do know how to find trouble, I will grant you that." Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle and glass before pouring himself a handsome measure of dark brown liquid.

"More like it finds me sir," Harry snorted.

"Indeed. But we do seem to be seeing quite a bit of each other as of late. If you do not mind Harry, I would very much like to view the memory of this event personally."

Harry nodded in agreement as he stood and walked to the nearby table where the pensieve still sat, quickly performing the spell to remove the memory. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he once again realized just how much his own memories looked like silver bogies.

"Before you watch sir," Harry asked as he placed the silver liquid in the stone bowl, "can you tell me why you didn't inform me last night about Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry's back was to turned, but Dumbledore did not mistake the distinct edge the boy's voice held.

"It is Professor Snape Harry, as you well know. As for your question, it sounds as if in his zeal to impart knowledge to your young minds, Severus may have neglected to mention one key fact."

"Which is?"

"That he is not in fact the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry turned back to face him at this, his eyebrows wide in shock. "Professor Snape was merely filling in. Our Defense Professor was…unavoidably detained, and so several of the other teachers took it in turn to teach a class during their free period. I myself spent an hour this morning with our Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years." Harry was shocked, to say the least.

"But, he made it sound as if…who is teaching us then?"

"Alastor Moody."

"Mad-Eye? How on earth did you manage that? I wouldn't have thought he'd agree to come back here in a million years after what happened."

"Let us just say that I can be very persuasive. Now, if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I would like to view this memory." Dumbledore stood and walked to the pensieve before leaning in and disappearing from view. Harry returned to his chair at Dumbledore's desk waited for several long minutes before the Headmaster finally emerged again, a deep frown upon his face.

"Curious," he said as he walked back to his desk, "very curious."

"What's curious sir?"

"Tell me Harry," Dumbldore asked, ignoring the question, "did you perform quite a bit of accidental magic as a child?"

"Erm, I don't really know. I remember a few things, like somehow ending up on the school roof while trying to escape some bullies, and I always re-grew my hair every time my Aunt tried to cut it. Come to think of it I think I used magic quite a few times running from those bullies. I remember once they even ran right past me and I was sure I was caught but it was like they didn't see me. Oh, and I vanished the glass on a snake cage at the zoo once. That's when I first learned about the parseltounge."

"And today, in the classroom; tell me what happened when you cast your spell."

"Sir?"

"It was quite obvious that you were having no success with casting non-verbally Harry. That is unsurprising and certainly nothing to be ashamed about. There is a reason that this is taught at the NEWT level and not during your OWLS. However, you seemed to advance from being completely incapable to casting one of the most powerful disarming spells that I have ever seen in a matter of seconds. So tell me, what changed?"

"Honestly sir, I'm not sure," Harry said, struggling to reply. "I just remember getting so angry at what he said, it felt like I was being filled up with heat and if I didn't release it I was going to explode. I didn't even think about it really, it kind of just came out. Do…do you know what happened sir?" Dumbledore sat silently, sipping gingerly at his drink as he stared contemplatively at Harry.

"Indeed I do have a theory. I am sure you are aware that you are currently in the throes of what the muggles refer to as puberty?" Harry nodded and Dumbledore smiled widely. "Most excellent! I must say I did not relish the thought of having to explain to you the…erm…details. The point however is that while magical children undergo this same process, they also experience a magical version as well. Normally this is a very simple matter, often not even recognized by the child. The average student will gradually realize that aside from perhaps growing a few inches taller and feeling the need to shave, they also find casting spells they once found challenging to be much easier. Once the point of full magical maturity is reached however, the child will have reached the limits of their magical potential." Harry considered the Headmaster's words carefully before responding.

"So what you're saying is that every witch and wizard's magic becomes stronger when they're teenagers, but then it stops and never grows any stronger?"

"Precisely Harry," Dumbledore said, obviously pleased. "But keep in mind that when I say they have reached the limits of their potential, I speak only in regards to their raw magical power. One can always benefit from hard work and study. In fact some of the more demanding fields in our world such as the healers of St. Mungo's or the Auror Corps require several further years of advanced study even once you have left school."

"But what does this have to do with what happened? Why did you ask me about accidental magic before?"

"Ah yes, well if you will recall, I said that the average student will likely not even notice their newfound magical power. For others however…things are a little more complicated. I asked about you accidental magic because that is the first sign. An average wizard typically performs accidental magic only occasionally, even as a child, and they are typically very minor things. When a child shows repeated signs of accidental magic, especially when they accomplish something as extraordinary as rudimentary apparition as you did, it is almost always a sign of an extraordinarily powerful wizard. And naturally, when a rather powerful wizard comes into his maturity and his full power, there are bound to be some….hiccups."

"So that's what this was," Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, "a hiccup?" Dumbledore raised his glass to his lips and drained the remaining contents.

"To the best of my knowledge, yes. I am sure that over the next few weeks your body will adjust to the new level of magic that it now has access to and things will return to normal, but in the meantime we must make sure that no students or any other faculty are hurt." Dumbledore smiled sadly as Harry hung his head in shame. "Now Harry, there is no reason for you to be ashamed. This was an accident, and Professor Snape will, I am sure, make a full recovery in time. On another note, I had planned to broach this subject with you this weekend, but as circumstances have obviously changed we will speak now. As of tomorrow, you will be attending private tutoring sessions with Professor Moody." Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Sir, does this mean that you're going to- "

"Train you to defend yourself? Yes, that is precisely what I mean. Your disappearance this summer finally made me realize that as much as I might wish it, I cannot protect you forever. But I can at the very least help you learn to protect yourself. While your plea to me last night would have been more than sufficient in its own right, I had already intended to give you private instruction this year."

"But," Harry sputtered in response, "If you were going to do it already, why did you let me say all of that? Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I intended to this weekend, however when you asked me, I felt it prudent to hear your reasoning. This is no easy challenge I set before you Harry, Professor Moody is an excellent teacher when it comes to fighting the Dark Arts, but his mannerisms leave much to be desired. He will push you to your limits, that I can promise you. But if you are not fully committed, then you are doomed to fail before you begin. Please trust me when I say that I would not ask this of you if I felt that there were any other way." Harry's eyes were hard and his face a determined mask as he replied.

"I won't fail sir. I can't afford to." Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"That is good to hear. In addition, you will not be permitted to use magic in your classes for the time being. Please understand," he said quickly, raising a hand to forestall the objection already forming in Harry's throat, "that this is only a temporary measure. We need to ensure that you are in complete control before you resume casting magic around other students. While Severus may have been resourceful enough to escape the full force of your spell…"

"A student might not be so lucky," Harry finished for him, nodding his head reluctantly. "I understand Professor." The Headmaster offered him a wide smile.

"Excellent Harry, excellent. And please, call me Albus. While I normally would not ask a student to speak to me so informally, these are far from normal times and you are far from a normal student. And as we will be seeing quite a bit of each other this year, I believe that we should dispense with the usual formalities."

"Erm…of course sir. I mean Albus."

"I'm sure it will grow on you Harry. Now, I believe that you have a quite a bit of homework to catch up on this evening. Your meeting with Professor Moody will take place tomorrow at six-thirty on the seventh floor, so you will need to eat dinner quickly."

"Seventh floor? The Room of Requirement?"

"The very same. Off you go now my boy, off you go."

Dumbledore waved his wand, dispelling the charms he had placed on the door. Harry stood and with a quick nod of farewell made for the door, somewhat confused by the abrupt dismissal but so happy that he was getting what he wanted that he simply didn't care. Dumbledore watched as he disappeared through the doorway and down the spiral stairs until the door automatically closed once more. His wand moved once again, recasting the protections he had just removed.

"Please have a seat Alastor."

A chameleon like figure detached itself from the far wall and moved forward with a clunking, heavy step. The effect slowly began to dissolve from the head down, revealing the scarred figure of Alastor Moody as he collapsed nonchalantly into the chair Harry had just vacated.

"A drink Alastor?"

"Why the hell did you just lie to the boy? And yes, I want a drink." Dumbledore retrieved another glass from his desk and filled it, passing it to the former Auror before he replied.

"I did not lie."

"Well you sure as hell didn't tell him the truth. You know dam well that this wasn't some growing pain or a result of his magical maturity. I haven't even seen the memory yet, but from what I've heard he blew Snape through the wall using nothing but a disarming charm. While also casting silently for the first time to boot."

"Temporary instability in one's magic has been known to occur in rare cases. I myself recall an incident in Tranfiguration in my sixth year. I was supposed to be turning a boulder into a dog, but instead it came out as a rather spectacular recreation of a hydra. It did not posses any of the magical properties of the beast of course, but it was rather fun teaching it to play fetch…"

"Albus…" Moody growled. Dumbledore paused for a moment before nodding in apology.

"I told Harry what I did because it was the closest explanation I can find for what seems to be happening. It is even possible that his maturity is indeed responsible." Moody laughed loudly; a deep, gravelly noise that sounded as if he had swallowed razor blades.

"Bullshit Albus. You know damn well that's not what's happening here. A strong wizard can experience fluctuations in power while his body adjusts to the new influx of magic, hell I experienced it just a little myself. But you saw what happened with his charms work, same as I did. I'll bet the same thing happened with Snape, didn't it."

Dumbledore hesitated, his lips pursed. As soon as Filius had reported unusual happenings in Harry's class Dumbledore had immediately retrieved and reviewed the Charm's professor's memory of the incident. He had watched as Harry had repeatedly attempted a simple cleaning charm, a spell any competent third year should have been able to perform without much trouble, without any success. Then when he had finally managed to cast the spell, it had not only obliterated the paper he had been attempting to clean, it had gouged a several centimeter deep crevice into the surface of the desk. He had allowed Alastor to view the memory himself, but the two had not even had time to discuss it before Minerva had led Harry into the room. And now with what they had learned about the incident in the Defense classroom, an isolated incident had now become a rather disturbing pattern.

"I knew it," Moody continued, not waiting for a response. "You know as well as I do that if the problem were his maturity then the spells might vary in power yes, but fail to work altogether? I've never heard of a documented case Dumbledore, have you?" Again Dumbledore did not respond. He didn't need to; they both knew that Moody was right. "Damn it Albus, something is happening to that boy."

"Telling him that I truly do not know the cause of these outbursts of magic would only worry and distract him Alastor. You agreed with me that his training was of the highest priority this summer when you agreed to take the post."

"Well how could I not after you drop that bombshell of a prophecy on me? Damnit I hate those things. Always liked to think that I made my own destiny. But going into this blind could be just as dangerous. What if he can't learn to control it?"

"I do believe," Dumbledore said while topping off his near empty glass, "that we run that risk regardless. I truly do not know what else this could be Alastor; for once I am as in the dark as you. But Harry must be trained; we must help prepare him for what is coming. Do you really want him to face this war unprepared, as you did all those years ago my old friend?" Moody reached a hand up, subconsciously running a finger over the eyelid protecting his magical eye.

"No," he whispered, "of course not."

"Then you must trust me my friend, it is better this way. I have known Mr. Potter and his friends since they started at this school, and if there is one thing they are known for it is tenacity. Put a mystery in front of them, especially Ms. Granger, and they will dig at it until they have an answer. For whatever reason, Mr. Potter has not been obsessing over the mystery of his disappearance this summer as I had expected. The last thing I wish to do is give him something else to obsess over instead." Moody seemed to want to argue the point further, but finally he just nodded in acceptance.

"Fine Albus, I'll trust your judgment on this. But my point about his magic still stands. It won't affect my plans much for the next few weeks at least, but what if he can't learn to control his spells?" Dumbledore downed the remainder of his drink in one smooth gulp.

"You just leave that to me."


	17. Chapter 16

Harry yawned mightily as he dashed up the final few stairs to the seventh floor, silently cursing Hermione. When he had arrived back in the common room the previous evening following his meeting with Dumbledore, half of the house had swarmed him. His deflections and half answers seemed to do nothing more than encourage them, and it wasn't until Hermione stepped in and threatened to begin docking House points that the crowd finally thinned out and left him alone with Ron, Neville and Hermione. He had spent the next hour regaling them with what had happened in Dumbledore's office, and all three were elated to hear that not only would Harry not be expelled, but he would be given private lessons.

The rest of the evening had been relatively uneventful, but it had been marred slightly by the fact that Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Harry had felt saddened, and even a little hurt by this. After what had happened he had expected her to at least drop by to see how he was doing, or if he was even still a student at Hogwarts. He even thought about asking Ron where she was, but at the last moment had thought better of it, closing his mouth before the question even formed. This didn't seem to stop Hermione from spitting him with a knowing look.

The next day was not nearly as terrible as the last, but that certainly didn't make it a pleasant experience. Despite turning in at an early hour, he hadn't had much sleep. While nightmares of the normal variety were much more pleasant to endure than the tortuous visions of Voldemort, that didn't make them any easier to sleep through and he had gone to breakfast with his friends feeling more tired than when he had laid down. Then from the moment he had entered the Great Hall, a hush had descended over the room. The Slytherins were all glaring at him with open hatred, whilst the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs cringed away from him in fear. It had been his second year all over again and he had nearly turned and stormed out until a hand fell onto his shoulder. He had half turned, expecting to see Hermione but instead it was Neville, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"You can't let them get to you," he had said quietly, a plea evident in his voice. Harry hesitated, his eyes darting between Neville, Hermione, who looked hopeful, and Ron, who just looked hungry. Finally he had simply nodded and turned around again, following his friends to the end of the Gryffindor table where they sat and enjoyed the quietest breakfast that Hogwarts had ever seen.

As soon as he reached his first class of the day however, he realized that he would rather have stayed in the Great Hall. Within half an hour he was debating furiously with himself whether or not a person could actually die of boredom. While the rest of the class worked at the transfiguration assignment that Professor McGonagall had set them, he spent his time reading the lesson in his book over and over, and had even read ahead a few chapters by the time the lesson finally, blessedly ended. McGonagall had looked sympathetic, but he knew better than to think that meant she would ignore the Headmaster's orders.

In every class it was the same; the rest of the students learned new spells and practiced magic and Harry took notes and read. The boredom, combined with his lack of sleep eventually began to wear on him to the point where he was nearly asleep on his feet. It wasn't until he nodded off in the middle of, and nearly fell into, one of Professor Sprout's planters that he finally let Hermione convince him that he would need sleep before he met with Moody. After extracting a promise from her that she would personally wake him half an hour before their meeting, he had left the greenhouse - Herbology being the last lesson of the afternoon - and retreated to his dormitory. He was asleep before his head had even touched the pillow.

He had awoken what seemed like moments later however to Hermione roughly shaking him.

"Please Harry, wake up!"

Gingerly he shook his head and sat up, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dim orange glow that crept in through the dormitory window.

"Hey Hermione, is it time already?"

Hermione shook her head guiltily.

"I'm so sorry Harry, but Ron and Neville wanted to go and play exploding snap with Dean and Seamus, so I went to the library by myself and I started reading and just sort of…lost track of time."

"So what time is it?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

"Nearly half past."

Anything else she might have said was lost in the mad scramble he made from his bed, grabbing his bag and sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him through the common room and out into the marble hallways, making his way to the seventh floor. Which brought him right back to the present, cursing Hermione silently while taking in deep gulps of air while the door to the room of requirement appeared before his eyes. Bracing himself, he stepped inside.

"You're late." That was the first thing Harry heard as he stepped out of the corridor and into the brightly lit room, easily five times as large as it had been during the largest DA meeting they had ever had and sparsely furnished. To one side there were a set of small wooden dummies and on the other he saw a series of shelves, stocked with various potions and, to his surprise, bandages. That was all he had time to notice before he locked eyes with the imposing figure of Mad-Eye Moody.

"I'm sorry sir, I fell asleep and my friend was supposed to-"

"Don't care," Moody interrupted, his voice hard as steel. "You were supposed to be here at six thirty, you're six minutes late. For every minute of my time that you waste boy, I'm going to take ten of yours, is that understood?" Harry bristled. He thought Moody was being completely unreasonable. After all it was only a few minutes and it wasn't as if he had-

"Stupefy!"

Harry reacted instinctively, ducking slightly as he spun to his left, narrowly missing the speeding surge of magic and removing his own wand from the pocket of his jeans in the process. Another spell was shouted, and this time Harry responded with one of his own, shouting a hurried "Protego!"His wand hummed, emitting an opaque shield and that caught the spell full on and Harry grinned as it dissipated harmlessly. His grin disappeared as he lowered his shield and was immediately hit by a jet of red light, one that he had not heard being cast. It slammed into his shoulder like a hammer blow, spinning him around and sending his wand flying from his hand and into the waiting grasp of Moody.

"Not bad boy," Moody growled, a smirk evident on his face. "It sure as hell wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either."

Harry groaned loudly as he slowly collected himself up off of the floor, trying not to wince at the ache he felt in his shoulder.

"What was that about?" he asked gruffly, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Just needed to see what I have to work with," Moody replied casually, tossing Harry's wand back at him. "Don't forget that I'm not the man who taught you Defense Against the Dark Arts two years ago; I don't know a damn thing about you. At least I know now that you aren't completely useless. You're a damned far sight away from a fully trained hit-wizard or Auror though boy, and you'd do well to remember that." The Aurors scarred face furrowed for a moment in concentration, and two hard backed wooden chairs appeared between them. Moody sat down, gesturing at the other chair situated across from him, "Sit." Harry did as he was told, but did nothing this time to hide the boiling anger rising up into his features.

"Oh, get over yourself Potter," Moody said with a roll of his eyes, "or are you as stuck up as Snape is always claiming? Do you think a Death Eater is going to listen to you pout about how unfair it was of him to beat you? Despite not knowing you personally, I am very aware of the things you've accomplished since you came to Hogwarts. Albus has been most forthcoming in that regard." Harry couldn't help but let out a small laugh at that.

"Yes, I take it you've had some trouble with getting him to give up his secrets yourself. But you haven't known the man for over fifty years. You don't know where the bodies are buried." He said it in a flat tone, devoid of any emotion, but Harry still felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't think that Moody was speaking metaphorically. "Now, I've been asked to train you in dueling and battle tactics to help you defend yourself against Voldemort's followers, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I gave you the same test I gave every Auror candidate I've ever trained, no more and no less. If you're going to act like a baby that's wet it's nappies every time you get knocked on your arse then I might as well just leave now and save myself the headache, because believe me when I tell you that if you train with me, you're going to be spending a lot of time down there. I don't demand perfection; at least not at first. But I do demand effort. If you ever walk in here and give me anything less than everything you have, I'm walking out and I'm not coming back. When you are with me you are going to sweat, you are going to bleed, and you will swear on everything you love that you hate my guts. But in the end you _will_ be ready, that I can promise you."

Moody slowly sat back and pulled a dull gold pocket watch from a front pocket, checking the time. All the while he kept his magical eye trained on Harry, watching as his face transformed dramatically, from anger, to embarrassment, back to anger, recognition and then finally he saw what he was looking for. Determination.

"Good," he said with an empty smile, "then let's get started."

_I hate this man, I hate this man, I hate this man…_

Harry repeated the words in his head like a mantra as he ran, his arms pumping furiously as sweat streamed down his face like a waterfall, stinging his eyes. He had been running for nearly thirty minutes straight now and Moody had only let him stop to breathe twice. Both times he had gotten thirty seconds of gulping down sweet glorious air, only to realize that stopping actually made him realize how badly his calves burned. He had come to dislike the stopping almost as much as the running. Almost.

"Stop," Moody ordered casually as Harry passed him for the seventh time. The teen wizard immediately came to a stop and sat down quickly, nearly collapsing on weak, shaky legs that didn't seem to want to support him any longer. He flopped backwards, his chest heaving as he drank in quick, gasping breaths. "Sit up," Moody ordered as he came up to stand beside him. Reluctantly, Harry complied, groaning as he pulled himself to a seated position. "Breathe in slowly, deep breaths." _Easy for you to say_, Harry thought darkly, feeling an intense desire to hex the aged Auror. He did as he was told however, and he was surprised to find that Moody's advice actually worked and the pounding in his chest and head eased as large quantities of oxygen flooded into his body.

"Legs straight now," Moody said next, "reach out and grab your toes." Harry was confused, but again did as he was told, stretching out and grabbing a hold of his trainers. "You should do this any time you do any running; otherwise you'll be creakier than old Albus by the next morning." While Harry continued to stretch his aching muscles, Moody summoned his chair from across the room and sat himself down next to him. "Do you know why you just did that?"

"Erm…"

"Standing rule in this room Potter - speak your mind. We don't have time to be pussyfooting around."

"Well then; because you're an arsehole?"

"No," Moody laughed, "but a damn fine guess. You ran because there is one thing that Hogwart's blatantly ignores in all of your years here; your body. They may teach you everything a young wizard or witch needs to know about magic, but they don't give two shits about your body. Did you ever wonder Potter why most of the adult wizards you've met have been pudgy little bastards?"

"Well now that you mention it," Harry murmured, now massaging his legs and wincing slightly, "yeah I have. Not all of them though; Malfoy's dad isn't, and neither are you or Tonks or Kingsley."

"The Malfoy family, "Moody said with disdain, "have their heads so far up their own arses they can chew their food again on the way down. He's skinny simply because he doesn't want to tarnish his families 'image' as the perfect pureblood family." He grinned, "And Tonks and I are Aurors. I dare you to find the wizard who can remain fat after going through the training that I helped design." _Well I can certainly believe that_, Harry thought.

"If you take the whole ministry and line them up though," Moody continued, "ninety percent of them would drop dead of a heart attack halfway through a 5k race. Because when you can accomplish almost anything with magic, why would you ever do anything else? But in the world you're entering you don't have the luxury of that kind of thinking anymore. In a real duel wizards don't stand still and take turns casting spells. When a Death Eater is doing your damndest to take your head off, your only defense is to keep moving; that and to be a better shot than he is. And look at you, winded after a half an hour of light jogging. In the middle ages when wizards fought alongside great armies of muggles, battles could go on for days. When I first apprehended the Lestranges the fight lasted nearly an hour, and there were almost a dozen of us and only four of them including that fucker Crouch. And I can guarantee you that we were not jogging. Until further notice you are to report to the edge of the lake at six every morning for more physical conditioning."Harry was unsuccessful in holding a horrified groan. "Whine again and it'll be five. Now get up." Harry scrambled to his feet, apprehension clear on his face.

"More running?"

"More running," Moody answered as he himself stood. "A little different this time, to drive the point home. This time no laps, just sprint for the far wall. And when I say sprint I mean give it everything you have. Are you ready?" Harry nodded as he leaned forward, preparing himself. "Go."

Harry took off, his legs pumping and his breathing heavy as he ran full tilt toward the far wall of the Room of Requirement. He focused in on his goal completely, doing his best to ignore the heavy sounds of his breathing and the hammering of his heart inside of his chest. Everything but the one bit of wall that he was aiming for just fell away. Then without warning something slammed into his side with a loud thud and he fell, tripping over his own feet in his surprise and confusion. He hit the ground hard, his breath leaving him in a massive rush of air. Shaking his head, he slowly climbed to his feet, trying to shake his grogginess.

"What the-Shit!" He ducked as he saw the bright red of a Quiditch quaffle zooming towards his face, narrowly missing getting flattened once more.

"Why'd you stop," came a cry from Moody, still standing in the same spot but with his wand out and held loosely at his side. "I told you to sprint to the wall, not have a nap on the floor." As Harry watched he raised his wand, pointing it at a nearby rack that had not been there before filled with row upon row of quaffles. Harry's eyes widened as he turned and ran for all he was worth. Glancing over his shoulder he saw a ball flying towards him, looking to hit right in the center of his back so again he fell, but this time on purpose, catching himself with his hands and watching as the ball sailed harmlessly over head. He started to get up but felt a tug at the back of his mind and instead rolled quickly to his left, seconds later hearing the telltale sound of a ball striking the floor.

Leaping to his feet he resumed his mad dash, but was now feeling much more confident. As before he felt, rather than saw, the next one; this time a low shot aimed at his feet that he leapt over without breaking stride. Focusing ahead once again he saw how close to the wall he was and lowered his head, pushing with everything he had, but the same feeling that had lead him before told him to look behind him. Twisting, he could see that a half dozen balls were only a few meters behind him, seconds away from contact. He also knew that with so many there was no way he would be able to dodge them all. Just before he would have slammed into the wall going full speed he jolted to a halt, turning as he did so and pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans. A bright, opaque shield shimmered into existence before him only moments before balls began slamming into it, bouncing away as they did so. The loud, echoing sounds of bouncing quaffles slowly, inexorably died, leaving only the heavy, panting breathing of an exhausted Harry Potter.

Harry watched as the room around him began to shrink, the stone seem to slide away beneath his feet as Moody began to walk towards him, each step appearing to bring him a dozen strides closer. Moments later he stood before the wheezing teen who's eyes widened in surprise. What had been a cavernous room had shrunk away to the size of a small office, no more than a few meters across. Harry locked his gaze with the impassive Moody, refusing to give an inch. He raised his chin defiantly, fully expecting to be shouted at and accused of cheating, as he was sure Snape would have done, or perhaps told how 'disappointed' Moody was in him as Dumbledore might have. To Harry's shock, he did neither.

"Not bad Potter."

Harry must have looked confused, because Moody continued with a bemused smile. "Expecting me to bust your bollocks? I told you that I wanted to you to sprint to the wall boy…I never said you couldn't use magic to do it." Harry's jaw dropped as he took in Moody's words; the entire exercise would have been a hundred times easier had he known he was allowed to use his wand! Moody shook his head ruefully, "You can take that as lesson number two; never make assumptions, ever. Assumptions are for the stupid and the dead. The second that you begin to make assumptions about a situation, you cut yourself off from possibilities and it makes it harder for you to react when the situation doesn't go as you expected. And believe me when it comes to fighting dark wizards, things rarely go as expected. Take this little excerise; I told you to run to the wall, and you assumed that because you were running, you weren't allowed to do anything else. If you had not made that assumption, you would have just pulled your wand the second you saw what I was doing and you would have had an easy path to victory." Harry cursed inwardly as he realized the Auror was right. He had assumed that he couldn't use his wand even though Moody had never said anything of the sort. He nodded gravely.

"I understand."

Moody smiled, "Good. And now that you've learned that lesson…" He flicked his wand and Harry felt his own jerk from his fingers once again into the waiting hands of Mad-Eye Moody. "We'll try this properly. Again!"


	18. Chapter 17

Harry breathed an audible sigh of relief as he staggered through the portrait hole into the warm glow of the Gryffindor common room. His sweat drenched shirt clung to him like a second skin, and it had not taken him long during his return to Gryffindor tower to realize exactly how chilly the old stone castle became at night. Even with the last vestiges of summer still clinging to life in the surrounding countryside, it still felt as if ice water had been running though his veins, puckering his skin and setting every hair on end. The welcome heat from the common room fireplaces sank into him like sunlight, bringing a content smile to his previously exhausted expression. Quickly locating his friends, he limped over to them and sank, or more accurately fell, onto the empty seat next to Neville.

"Oh Harry," Hermione exclaimed, alarmed at his disheveled appearance, "not again?"

"Yeah mate," Ron contributed with a scowl, "I can't believe you're putting up with his shit. All this running around, it's indecent. You smell awful by the way."

"Thanks mate," Harry replied, rolling his eyes, "I really appreciate that."

"Sometimes the truth hurts," Neville threw in, and even Harry had to join in the quiet laughter that followed.

"Such wonderful friends I have," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry about the smell, I guess I had just gotten used to it and forgot. I can go take a shower first…" All three of them quickly shouted this idea down, insisting that he stay and tell them how things had gone with Moody. Harry turned surreptitiously, checking to see if anyone was close enough to overhear.

The only group that seemed to fit the bill was a small table of fifth years; all of them seemingly neck deep in complicated homework assignments, including Ginny. Briefly he considered asking her to join them, but he held himself back, just as he had done every night since his training had begun. _No_, he thought as he turned back to face the others, _I'm not going to force her to be a part of this. I don't know why she's been ignoring me, but if that's what she wants then that's what I'll give her._

"It was intense," he said finally, "that's the only way I can describe it."

"That's it," Ron asked wryly, "intense? They're always intense! Details mate, we want details." Harry relented and spent the next several minutes recounting his latest experience with the former Auror captain, from start to finish. Though he had worked with Moody almost every day, and on Saturdays literally spent the entire day with the man, he seemed to have an endless supply of new exercises for Harry to run. They almost never did the same thing two days in a row. This explanation was hardly enough to satisfy Ron however. "Running," he said, sounding incredulous, "that's all you did was more running?"

"Not entirely. He taught me how to roll properly too."

"Roll?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "roll. You can't just go for it and hope for the best you know; you're likely to tear something. So he showed me how to do it proper so you don't hurt anything and you always end up back on your feet with your balance intact and your wand ready. Should be dead useful."

"Maybe so," Ron conceded, "but you still spent more time running that doing anything else didn't you?" Harry nodded.

"That's bloody unbelievable that is. Here you are supposed to be training with the greatest Auror who ever lived, and the man's making you run in circles. What does he think you are, a centaur? It's bad enough the daft old coot has you waking up before the sun is even up, you'd think he could at least teach you some bloody magic the rest of the time."

"Ron, you know Harry still isn't allowed to do magic," Hermione reminded him, "Dumbledore hasn't given him permission yet."

"It's not really that bad once you get used to it Ron, "Harry offered with a shrug, "I don't really mind anymore. Besides, he says it's important; says that wizards as a whole are too soft for a real war."

"What do you mean soft?" Ron exclaimed, nearly rising out of his chair until Hemrione jerked him back down by his sleeve. "What does running have to do with learning to duel dark wizards?"

"Actually what he says makes a lot of sense," Harry admitted grudgingly, his features contemplative. "When I think back on everything that happened at the Ministry, and even my fight with Voldemort at the graveyard, I spent most of my time running. I didn't have much choice; we were outnumbered at the Ministry and I certainly was no match for Voldemort in a straight up fight. Running until we could turn the odds in our favor kept me, kept all of us, alive. I don't think that being able to do that better can be a bad thing." Harry smiled widely. "And besides, even if I'm wrong, the next time Voldemort tries to kill me I can just challenge him to a race."

The raucous laughter issuing from Ron and Neville and Hermione's polite giggles did not even begin to drown out the sound of a text book slamming closed behind them. Harry turned and saw Ginny angrily throwing her things into her bag before she turned and stormed off towards the portrait hole. Waving for the others to stay where they were, he stood and hurried after her, ignoring the slight shake in his tired legs as he ran.

"Ginny wait," he called, stopping her just short of the exit, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied, not turning to face him as she spoke.

"Well obviously there's something wrong," he insisted, "you look ready to explode."

"I said it was nothing," she insisted, her fists clenching violently.

"It's not nothing," he growled, starting to grow angry himself. "You haven't said a word to me in two weeks; there is something going on, just tell me."

"Just mind you own business Potter."

"Damn it Ginny, just tell me what's wrong, I want to help you!"

"Well maybe I don't want your help," she screamed at him, whirling around to face him for the first time and revealing the silent tears streaking down her anger reddened cheeks. The whole common room had fallen into a dead silence, watching the confrontation with baited breath. "I know it may not be possible for you to grasp the concept," Ginny continued, "but not everyone in the world needs you to come rescue them. You can't solve the whole world's problems on your own Potter, and maybe if you'd pull your head out of your own arse for five minutes you'd see that." Her lower lip was trembling horribly as she tried, desperately and futilely, to keep her emotions from reaching her face. Harry felt all of the anger and fight drain out of him as he finally realized what it was she was trying to hide from him. It was fear.

_I get it now_, he thought to himself bitterly, _now that she's heard everything; about me, the prophecy, and Voldemort she's terrified. She told me that the prophecy didn't matter to her because that's what she thought she should say, but she doesn't want to get pulled into this. I can hardly blame her. After what she went through in her first year she deserves a chance to be normal. And that can never happen as long as she hangs around me. _

"I understand," he whispered softly, where he knew only she would be able to hear. Her eyes widened slightly and sparkled with a faint glimmer of hope. "I told all of you the other day that I wouldn't blame any of you for wanting to stay away from me; that hasn't changed. You deserve a chance to be happy Ginny and I don't want to take that away from you. I won't bother you any more, alright?"

The hope he had seen born in her eyes died violently and brought the tempestuous fire roaring back to the forefront. Her hand leapt out before he could even react, catching him full across the cheek in an open handed slap that spun his head forcibly to the right. The hot sting on his cheek and the ringing in his hears didn't faze him nearly as much as the tortured look on her face. Without another word she turned, opened the portrait, and stepped out into the corridor. The general buzz of the common room slowly resumed, although somewhat more subdued. Harry heard none of it. He stood rooted in place, trying desperately to understand exactly what had just happened. It took Hermione's gentle hand on his shoulder to finally break him from his reverie as he turned questioningly to his female best friend.

"What did you say," she asked gently.

"I told her that I didn't blame her for not wanting to be my friend anymore. That I would leave her alone so she could be happy."

"Oh Harry," Hermione moaned, "you didn't…"

"She was terrified Hermione, I could see it in her eyes. She just didn't want to hurt me by saying it to my face."

"Harry…you couldn't be more wrong. You need to go talk to her." She shoved his forgotten school bag into his hands. "Use the map and the cloak. I'll handle Ron, just go." Harry met her worried eyes with his own and nodded his thanks before he turned and followed Ginny through the portrait hole and into the slumbering halls of Hogwarts.

Ginny shivered softly in the cool breeze, silently promising herself that the next time she stormed out of a room, she would remember to bring a damn coat. She leaned forward, moving her back away from the chilled stone against which she sat in favor of wrapping her arms tightly around her own legs for warmth as she stared out over the side of the Astronomy tower battlements onto the darkened, sweeping grounds of Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest beyond. From her very first night of Astronomy she had been in love with this place; while Professor Sinistra kept telling them all to look towards the heavens, she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the alluring landscape spread out all around her.

At first she had been afraid to sneak up here alone, afraid that she would be caught and disciplined for being out past curfew or being out of bounds. Until that is the first time she had blacked out from writing in her diary. After that she had spent more time here than she cared to remember trying desperately to pretend that everything was ok; or later, when things became even worse, trying to convince herself not to jump. But that year had come and gone and still she had felt drawn to this place. Now, despite the memories it held for her there was no place better when she needed to get away from everything to think.

The sound of a door creaking open behind her came as no surprise, and she did not even bother to turn to see who it was.

"Go away Mione. I know you just want to help but just…not tonight ok?"

"Er, sorry. Wrong friend." The sound of Harry's voice made her stiffen, but she refused to let herself show any other reaction. "What do you want Potter?"

"Mostly just to say I'm sorry," he replied with a shrug. Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she swung to face him. "I don't know what I did to make you so angry with me Ginny, but it wasn't on purpose."

"You're apologizing to me for me slapping you and storming off," she said, unable to hide the incredulity from her voice. "Really?" He winced at the memory.

"Well not the slapping specifically, no. But whatever I did to make you angry enough to do it…yeah, I'm sorry." Her shoulders sagged slightly and he slowly closer to her before finally laying a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, it's ok that you're scared. I know I am. I promised all of you when I told you the prophecy that I wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to back away and I meant it. It's ok."

"You couldn't be more wrong Harry." She said it flatly, trying to hide any hint of emotion in her voice but she could feel the fire that had been burning inside of her for the last two weeks screaming at her, aching to be released. Her shoulders began to shake slightly from the effort and she clenched her fists as tightly as she could.

Harry must have felt her shaking because he suddenly leaned closer to her and whispered, "Aww, Ginny, don't cry…"

"I am not crying you git!" Her shout echoed off the stone battlements as she whirled around, throwing Harry's comforting hand off of her as she stood and leapt down from her perch to the stone floor. She began to stalk towards Harry, taking one measured step at a time as the increasingly nervous looking boy backed away slowly.

"I am not sad, I do not feel guilty, and I damn well am not afraid! I am angry!" Harry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion but she didn't relent. "I hate this stupid prophecy; in fact I hate the whole notion that none of us are in charge of our own lives. The very idea that nothing I do really matters because I was always destined to do it just pisses me off. I hate Tom for being such a gullible wanker that he believes in the damn thing and is determined to make it come true no matter what. I hate that Dumbledore took so damn long to even tell you any of this. I hate that Ron and Hermione are so calm about the whole thing. But the thing I hate more than anything is that you are such a great stupid prat that you're going to try and do this whole damn thing alone and not let any of us help you because you're too damned noble to realize that we have just as much right to try and protect our friend as you do to try and protect us."

During her explosive tirade, Ginny had been inching closer and closer to the speechless Harry, who had long since run out of room to back up and was now mere inches away from him. She leaned in close, looking deeply into his eyes.

"We don't want to lose you either Harry. Maybe next time you start to get all self loathing about how you're just trying to protect us, you'll remember that."

Ginny finally rocked back onto her heels, her fury spent. She reeled away from Harry, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye any longer, and made her way back to her perch on the battlements, this time hanging her feet over the edge to dangle in the empty air hundreds of feet above the grounds below.

Mortified, she realized; that was the word she was looking for to describe how she felt right now. She honestly had expected Hermione to come after her, not Harry and had been completely unprepared to face him. There wasn't any time to bottle back up the anger she had been building up inside of her for weeks and once he set her off there was no stopping it. A single tear rolled down her cheek but she was determined not to wipe at it; not to show any weakness. A hand reached out from behind her and wiped the solitary drop away before she felt Harry ease himself onto the ledge beside her.

"Long way down," he commented, leaning over to peer down into the darkness below. "Aren't you worried about falling?"

"No," she replied quietly, "I've been coming up here ever since my first year when I needed to think. Ever since…you know. I'm used to it by now."

He nodded his understanding and they both sat for several long minutes staring out at the darkened grounds, neither saying a word until he spoke again.

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already," she said, unable to help a small smile.

"Yeah, but then I was just apologizing for making you upset; I had no idea what the reason was. Now I do. I'm sorry for assuming I knew what you were upset about. I'm sorry that I spent so much time thinking about what the prophecy meant to me and how much I hated it to even think about how the rest of you might feel. And mostly I'm sorry that you've all been dragged into this mess with me."

There was another brief pause before Ginny finally whispered, "I lied you know." He turned his head to watch her, but didn't say anything. She thought maybe he could sense how difficult it was for her to admit this, and she was grateful for that. "When I said that I wasn't afraid. I am afraid. But not of Death Eaters, or dementors, or even Tom. I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you Harry. Or Ron," she continued, blushing, "or Hermione, or even mum and dad. I'm afraid that one of you is going to get hurt in this fight. Because if that happens Harry, and I've been forced to sit on the sidelines by my parents or," she shot him a knowing look, "anyone else for that matter then I am going to have to spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have made a difference. Agonizing over whether I could have saved them had I been there. And that is my deepest fear; to lose everyone I love while I'm locked away in a cage. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have made a difference; I won't."

Harry didn't respond to that, merely staring out over the darkened grounds while Ginny swung her feet absentmindedly. Ginny wondered if she had struck a nerve with him when she shared this. She knew that he still had trouble with Cedric and Sirius' deaths, always wondering if there was anything that more he could have done to save them. Eventually though he reached out a hand tentatively to grasp her own, squeezing it as he turned to face her.

"No more running," he said, managing to make it both a question and a statement at the same time. She nodded her understanding as she squeezed his hand in return.

"No more trying to do this alone." She knew what she was asking of him was hard, and she could see the indecision warring on his face. On the one hand she was fairly certain he had taken her point about not wanting to be the only one left out of the fighting to heart, but on the other…he was Harry. But finally he nodded his assent.

"I'm supposed to go running with Moody in the morning," he said offhandedly as they both turned and looked back out over the darkened grounds, "I should probably get some sleep."

"Yeah," she agreed, "probably." But neither of them stood to leave. Instead they continued to sit together silently staring out into the night, their hands still clasped together.

Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily as he hurried his way across the cool damp lawn towards the lake where he knew that Moody waited. It had been in the early hours of the morning when he and Ginny had finally made their way back to Gryffindor tower and staggered exhaustedly up to their respective rooms, and the lack of sleep definitely showed. He had been sorely tempted to head for the kitchens before meeting Moody, but decided that even that small detour was not worth the possibility of being late. Only once had he been late for a morning run, and he had resolved then and there to never do it again. His stomach twisted in knots at the painful memories even as he skidded to a halt a few feet away from a scowling Moody.

"Hey, don't give me that look," Harry protested through labored breath, "I'm not late."

"Well bugger me with a broomstick, isn't that lovely. I know you're not late; if you were you'd already be on the ground doing pushups until your tits bleed." Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Moody was often rude and irritable during their time together, but today seemed different. He almost seemed somewhat…flustered.

"Then what is it? Obviously something has your knickers in a twist."

Moody's eyes narrowed.

"Perceptive today, aren't we Potter? Good, it means we're making progress. Very well; I was hoping you could explain that." As he spoke he turned and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, motioning towards the edge of the lake. Harry leaned around him to follow his gesture and froze, his eyes widening. There, by the edge of the lake stood Ginny, dressed in what was in his opinion the smallest shorts and tank top ever conceived of by man. And currently she was stretching her arms skyward as she yawned loudly, her shirt riding higher and higher and revealing more soft pale skin with each second. Harry blinked repeatedly as he tore his gaze away and back to the still scowling Auror before him.

"Well?"

Harry shook his head, bewildered.

"No clue; why don't you just ask her?"

"I did," Moody drawled, though he did not elaborate. "Girl!" Ginny's head jerked in their direction and she smiled deviously as she saw Harry standing there before she quickly jogged over to join them.

"Girl-"

"I have a name you know," she said, spitting Moody with a furious glare, "it's Ginny."

"Isn't that nice for you dear," he sneered back. Her narrowed eyes had Harry backing away from the two slowly.

"Yes it's a lovely name, I'm sure we can all agree on that," she hissed coldly, "now can you start using it or are we going to have a problem?" She actually pulled her wand at this point, and Harry knew from experience that Moody's was never far from his hand. This was getting out of hand very quickly. But rather than hex her, Moody simply stared, his one real eye narrowing as he took stock of the angry redhead currently staring him down. Finally, after what seemed to harry to be hours, the ever irate Auror captain cracked a hideous smile.

"Fair enough."

And then, before Harry could even breathe a sigh of relief, Moody's attention was back on him, his face returned to its usual glare.

"Ginny, what was is you said to me when I asked you why you were here?" Ginny folded her arms and smiled sweetly.

"Why, I told you that Harry said I could join you."

"Yes of course," he drawled, "now I remember. Of course I knew that couldn't be the case, because I know I never told you could invite anyone to our little party, and I _know_ that you didn't think you could just do whatever the hell you wanted without consulting me."

Harry shook his head rapidly, stuttering, "But I didn't, I don't, it wasn't…"

"Don't try to call me a liar Potter," Ginny hissed, crossing her arms. "When we talked last night you agreed that you would stop trying to do everything on your own. And then you told me about having to meet Moody this morning. Sounds like an invitation to me."

"Well it wasn't!" he snapped back, bristling at her accusation, "and I didn't call you a liar. This just isn't what I meant when I said that and you know it Gin. I meant that I would stop trying to push you all away, not that you should join me in doing all of this."

"Well then maybe you should try saying what you mean." Harry looked to Moody for support but received only a small shrug.

"Don't look at me; I happen to agree with her on this one. Words have power, and if you don't want others to twist them for their own purposes, you should be more careful what you say."

"But I didn't actually tell her she could come! She assumed!"

"Not my problem Potter. But still," he mused, running a hand across his stubbled chin, "the question remains. Why should I let you stay? I don't exactly like kids you know."

She didn't say anything at first, but just stood quietly as she stared out over the calm waters to where the giant squid was carving a slow gentle path along the surface of the lake.

"Harry," she finally spoke, "would you mind giving us a minute."

Harry tried to object, but the protest died before he could ever voice it with a single glower from Moody, who merely jerked a thumb over one shoulder. Fuming slightly at being dismissed so, Harry shuffled away towards the edge of the lake.

Ginny waited until he was out of hearing range before she spoke again, but this time there was a note of steel in her voice that had not been there previously.

"You should let me join you because you can't stop me."

Moody's scowl twisted into a smirk.

"Oh really? How d'you figure that?"

"Oh you can certainly stop me from joining these little training sessions of yours," she ceded, "but you can't stop me from fighting with Harry when the time comes. We all know that there's a war coming. My parents, the other professors, and even Dumbledore can say whatever they want about how safe we'll all be at Hogwarts and how we shouldn't worry, but I know better and so do you. That's why you agreed to teach this year, isn't it? Because you saw how everything Voldemort does seems to be centered around Harry." Moody said nothing, but a subtle shifting of his shoulders gave away his answer.

"Now personally I don't set any stock in prophecy. I wish that stupid drunken bint had fallen down the stairs before she ever uttered a word to Dumbledore. But that doesn't change the fact that as long as Voldemort believes it, he'll never stop coming after him. You've accepted that Harry will have to fight, so you're willing to teach him as much as you can to give him the best chance at winning. What you also need to accept is that when the time comes his friends aren't going to sit quietly on the sidelines and hope for the best whether Harry likes it or not. Maybe you've forgotten that I've been possessed by the memory of that evil bastard. I know more than most exactly how far he's willing to go to gain himself a bit of power, and if you think that any of us are going to sit here and wait like good little children and let the grownups handle things while Harry fights for his life, then you've got another thing coming."

By this point Moody was gently rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew that if she was anything like her mother, the girl would build up a head of steam and be at it for hours, and the last thing he needed to deal with right now was a Molly Weasley sized rant. _I'd rather cut off my other leg and ask Lucius Malfoy to bugger me with it_, he thought grimly.

"Fine, you're in."

His sudden accession to her request left her slightly stunned and, to Moody's relief, silent.

"Oh…well then." Her eyebrows drew tightly together as she tried to decide if she was pushing her luck. "Why?"

"If you aren't interested anymore little miss, then that's fine," he sneered. "You know where the castle is, feel free to go back inside and get your beauty sleep." Ginny shook her head wildly.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," she assured him, raising her hands placatingly, "I'm glad that you said yes, and it's not like I don't appreciate it, but I guess I just want to understand why you gave in so quickly. You know when my mother finds out she's going to give you holy hell over it, and you don't even know me…so why are you bothering?"

Moody nearly snarled at her in frustration as he wished for the hundredth time since the term had started for a smoke. In the nearly two decades since he had first decided to give up his beloved pipe, there had been only a handful of cases brutal and heart wrenching enough to tempt him off of the wagon. Since he had started dealing with hormonal, insecure teenagers everyday however, such urges were a daily occurrence.

"Ms. Weasley," he began calmly, "since you were so annoyingly, brutally honest with me, let me do you the same courtesy. I am not doing this for you. I am doing it for him." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Harry had gone. "I was barely older than that boy when I first went to war young lady. And let me tell you something; as terrible as that bloody tosser Voldemort is, he is absolutely nothing compared to watching the entire world burn around you. Voldemort kills a few muggleborn families here and there, makes an example of a few Purebloods who won't fall in line, boohoo. Entire nations fell, entire races were massacred and more people lost their lives than exist in the entirety of wizarding Britain today. And it was all because of the machinations of a single man. So trust me when I tell you I've learned a great deal about battling so called dark lords. Do you know what the single most valuable thing I learned in that conflict was Ms. Weasley?" She shook her head.

"Any wizard, no matter how great, is weakest when he fights alone. Even at the end when he fell, Grindelwald commanded an army of hundreds of dark wizards, thousands of dark creatures, and thousands upon thousands of Muggles through his puppet, Hitler. If he had fought alongside them…well let us just say that the fight could have ended very differently. Instead he allowed himself to be cornered with only a small guard, believing himself untouchable. And that arrogance cost him dearly."

"This is a lesson Harry must learn before I even think about letting him into a combat situation. I know all about the boy's antics since he's been here, and while no doubt heroic, they showcase his fatal flaw. He won't accept help. He is so determined to keep you all safe that he sees everyone as a target to shield instead of a potential ally to stand with him. That has to stop. I had always intended for his little merry band to join him in his training eventually; that may be the only way he'll see that the best way he can keep you all safe is to make sure that you can take care of yourselves. I had hoped he would realize that himself by now after everything I've told him, but obviously he's too thick headed to get it on his own. So what do you say; you in?"

He extended a gnarled hand and after a moment's hesitation she clasped it with her own, a confident smile on her face.

"Stupefy!"

Ginny fell in a heap at Moody's feet, unconscious as the veteran Auror shook his head ruefully.

"Merlin's saggy balls girl, it wasn't even silent." _Oh well_, he mused as he turned to watch Harry sprinting towards them, wand held at the ready, _she'll learn soon enough_.

_A/N – Writing as fast as I can at the moment, but doubt I'll get another out in the near future. Mid terms in just a couple of weeks and even more tests in between. As always, please feel free to let me know what you think about the story in the form of a review. I do actually enjoy discussing the story with people, so I've been trying to get into the habit of responding to each review. Im already editing this in response to a flame, lol. Does anyone know how to disable the damn anonymous reviews? Ever since they added the stupid review mod thing I'm having to individually delete the stupid things. Ill actually respond to this one though. I neglect to see, Mr. Anonymous, how a single tender moment between two friends, without a single mention of the word love or even date, in 18 chapters qualifys this story as a bunch of school romance emo fluff as you put it. But if you have such a problem with even the possibllity or foreshadowing of romance, then i suggest you not read stories clearly marked with a pairing and as romance. Next time try signing in before spouting off nonsensical trash talk; it's the grown up thing to do. Also, this chapter was not proofread nearly as much as I prefer before posting, so any mistakes please let me know so I can correct them._


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